Entrapment
by Absolut
Summary: Set a year after movie end. Clarice has been reassigned to a new FBI unit. But an unexpected event puts her back on the tracks of Hannibal.
1. Chapter 01

Entrapment  
By Absolut.  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I don't see how I could make any money of it anyway. I'm just borrowing them for a ride. I'll turn them back. I promise ... Or maybe not ...  
  
Reviews always welcome. That's what make us improve, isn't it ?  
  
**Chapter 1**  
  
Starling was crouching behind a cardboard about thirty feet from the entrance of the building. She had been in this position for more than an hour now and her kneels were hurting like hell. She would have given a month of salary to be able to stand up for five minutes. But she knew there was no way she could do that.  
  
They had been after these gunrunners to catch them in the act for three weeks without success. And now finally things were moving. Her kneels would have to wait. From where she was, she could see special agent David Scomb hiding behind the corner of the warehouse. He was closer than her and would probably be the first one to reach the door. Unless she could run real faster ...  
  
The SWAT team was there as a backup, but they were suppose to intervene only in case of problem. This was an FBI case and it would stay that way. To be sure they would not fumble, thirteen agents had been sent to the place. But, as they did most of the investigation part, Scomb and Starling had been given the priority for the arrest. David was a little bit ahead of her in their little private contest, and she had to try to beat him this time. She had the best visibility on the door and that was her only advantage. Clarice Starling was staring at the building as if her life was depending on it.  
  
While she was concentrating on the door, something caught her attention on her left. But the time she turned her head, it was gone. Everything looked as quiet as before. She could not be sure she really had seen something. It was so fugitive it might as well have been just an effect of her tiredness. She had a look at David. He had not moved and was still looking into the direction of the warehouse door. She tried to focus again on the door, but the incident had left her with an unpleasant feeling.   
  
Something was not right. She could feel it, but was not able to put a name on it. Again, she stared at the left corner of the building. Nothing. She took a deep breath and tried to convince herself she had just been dreaming. But it did not quite work. Another ten minutes passed. Starling was looking alternately to the door and to the left but nothing moved. She was about to surrender and admit it was just her imagination when suddenly she saw it again. A very pale red light, almost invisible. She would have missed it if she had not been concentrating on the corner at that very second. Then it disappeared again. A cigarette ! It was the light of a cigarette. Someone was standing there behind the corner. A brief mental review of the plan confirmed to her it could not be one of their agents.  
  
Clarice was about to alert the team on the radio when suddenly the door slammed open. She saw David rush out of hiding, unaware of the danger. At the very same moment, a shadow went out of the other side of the building and she saw it pointing a gun at her partner. Clarice jumped over the cardboard she was hiding behind and, without hesitating shot the man twice. The two bullets reached him in the heart. He was dead before his body hit the floor.  
  
David froze as he understood what had just happened. But he recovered rapidly and ran to the group of traffickers who were trying to escape. He was soon joined by Clarice and the other agents. There was a bit of struggle but the FBI rapidly got the control of the situation. In less than five minutes, everybody was handcuffed and the team entered the warehouse to search it.  
  


* * *

  
It had been a gorgeous day for the FBI. In the warehouse, they had found three cases of automatic rifles, three machine guns, two rocket launchers and the ammunition that went with it. The best catch they had done in months. Even if the three guys they had arrested were not the very top of the pyramid of the organization, they were high enough in the hierarchy for their absence to be a problem, and their arrest would probably make the big bosses sweat a bit.  
  
It had been two hours that the arrest had been done. Starling's tension was beginning to decrease. She was sitting on the floor outside the building waiting for the forensic team to complete their examination. It should not be long now.  
  
David went out of the warehouse and joined her. He lit a cigarette and offered one to her. She refused.  
  
" - Seems we have finished here." he said. " Krantz said the report can wait till tomorrow.  
- Good. I really don't feel like doing paper work tonight."  
  
David drew on his cigarette. He bent his head.  
  
" - Clarice ..." he paused, embarrassed. After a few seconds he went on: " Well, thank you.  
- For what ? For letting you win today ? Believe me, I did not do it on purpose !" She was smiling at him. "Don't have any illusion, dear sir. Next time I'll get you.  
- For saving my life today.  
- Oh, that ! Don't mention it. Part of the job. You would have done the same for me.  
- Sure, but ... thanks anyway."  
  
He paused again. Clarice closed her eyes, letting go the adrenaline.  
  
" - Want to come home for dinner ?" David asked. She looked at him. It was not such an unusual question. In the six months they had been working together the two agents had developed a kind of friendly relationship and Clarice had already been invited several times at the Scomb' s house. Mary-Ann, David's wife, and Clarice were getting along all right and their two kids had adopted her as aunt Clarice. But Starling was not really feeling like family at this moment.  
" - Thanks, Dave. But not tonight. I'm tired. I think I'll just go to bed and have a twelve hour sleep for a change.  
- OK. As you want. But if you change your mind, just ring me.  
- All right."  
  
Half an hour later they were free to go. David dropped her in front of her apartment and they wished each other good night.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice let her bag on the kitchen table and went directly to the bathroom. After her shower, she prepared herself a cheese omelet and a salad. She got a Coke from the fridge, put everything on a tray and went to the sitting room. She sat on the couch and turned on the TV. She was just in time for the evening news. She started to eat.  
  
The first headline was about public demonstrations that were taking place around the last G7 summit. Then there was a one minute report about the arrest they had performed in the afternoon. The media had not been let inside the warehouse, but they abundantly described what they imagined took place. Clarice sighed. The camera was now back on the presenter.  
  
" Let's now come to the most intriguing disappearing of Jonathan Dubrowski. The family of the young billionaire, at the head of one of the most famous publishing house in the country - South Bank Publishing - have lost contact with him for more than three days now. Last time Mr. Dubrowski was seen was last friday, as he was leaving his Washington DC apartment to join a party given at the Marriot hotel to honor one of his publishing house most famous and controversial author: Christopher Mc Dougall. But apparently, Mr. Dubrowski never showed up at the party."  
  
Clarice' s attention was attracted by the name of Mc Dougall, but she could not remember why it sounded familiar.  
  
" The police, though alerted immediately, did not make too many efforts at first. J. Dubrowski being well known for his eccentricities, it had first been assumed that his disappearance was merely another of the publicity coup he has been so fond of in the last few years. But as time passed and no news was received, the concern has grown and the police is now investigating the possibility of a kidnapping. Chief inspector Michael Simpson, from Washington Police Department declared that the family has not received any request for a ransom yet.  
  
The last distinguished action of Jonathan Dubrowski was the publishing of Mc Dougall last book 'Hannibal Lecter - Anatomy of a Monster', in which he gives his version of the psychological profile of the unfortunately serial killer Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter. Both the publisher and the author were the guests of many talk shows in the last weeks. Even though the book has been harshly criticized by the most renowned psychiatrists of the country, it is becoming one of the biggest best seller of the last decade."  
  
Clarice jumped on her couch. "That's it !" she said loudly. "That's why I knew the name !" On TV, the journalist was going on with his report but Clarice was hardly listening. Her mind was racing to the consequences of what she had just heard. She turned off the sound of the TV set and picked up her phone. She dialed Jack Crawford' s home number and waited for her ex-boss to answer.  
  
" - Jack Crawford.  
- Mr. Crawford, this is Clarice Starling. Sorry to disturb you at home but ...  
- Starling ! No problem. I'm happy to hear you. I've heard about your operation today. Congratulations !  
- Thank you Mr. Crawford. Team work actually.  
- Yes. What can I do for you ?  
- Well ... I'm not sure but ... I just caught the news ... about the disappearance of Jonathan Dubrowski, the publisher."  
  
Crawford remained silent for a moment. When he came back on the line, his voice was lower and had lost any trace of enthusiasm.  
  
" - I thought you would." he started simply. "And I imagined you would call me too.  
- Has the bureau been contacted by the police ?  
- Not exactly." Crawford paused, as if thinking about what he could tell her and what he could not. Clarice did not like it. "We contacted them. But this is confidential information, Starling. I shouldn't even be talking with you about it.  
- I see." Clarice decided she did not care for Crawford' s instructions. He had the right not to answer, but she had the right to ask. "But I'm still an FBI agent, right ?  
- Yes. But you no more belong to the Behavioral Science Unit. And Lecter is our case.  
- How did the cops react ?  
- Starling, I just told you that ...  
- I've heard you. Lecter is yours. But it's normal I feel concerned, isn't it ? "  
  
Crawford seemed to think for a moment.  
  
" - Well, I suppose if I were you and there was a possibility for Lecter to be back in the United States, I would probably feel concerned about my own security ... " Clarice did not answer. They both knew Hannibal Lecter would not call on her unless he was forced to. But if Crawford needed an excuse to talk to her, this one would do. " I called Mike Simpson myself this morning. He's the inspector in charge.  
- And what did he tell you ?  
- Not much. It looks as if Dubrowski had vanished completely.  
- Did you talk to him about Hannibal Lecter ?  
- Of course. But I have not been very convincing. Simpson firmly believes Dubrowski has organized his own disappearing. Well, knowing what the guy has done in the past, it's a possibility we cannot neglect. The idea could even be to make people believe he has been kidnapped by Lecter. That would for sure help the sales. Besides, if Lecter really was behind all this, why go after the publisher ? Why not go directly after the author ?  
- What about him ? Is he under the police protection ?  
- No. Simpson told me they offered to have patrols near his house, but he refused."  
  
Starling was trying to stay calm, but she couldn't help feeling increasingly tensed.  
  
" - What are we going to do ?" she finally asked Crawford.  
" - WE ? We are going to do nothing about it, Starling. This does not concern you anymore. What I told you was just a chit-chat between old friends and you are just going to go on with your job as if you had never heard about Mr. Dubrowski. Do I make myself clear ?  
- Yes, sir.  
- Clarice, I am very serious about it."  
  
Crawford was very rarely using her first name. She understood she would be loosing her time trying to convince him to involve her.  
  
" - Understood." she said. "May I know what you are trying to do about it, then ? Just between 'old friends' ..." She heard him laugh at the other side of the line.  
" - Clarice Starling, you are the most stubborn person I've ever worked with.  
- They taught me perseverance at Quantico, sir.  
- Yeah ... I've un-officially assigned two agents to the case. Just to see if they can find something. And I have another one discreetly following Mc Dougall. But you're not part of the plan, Starling.  
- That's OK, Mr. Crawford. I just wanted to be sure something was being done. I guess I'd better let you go to bed now. Sorry again to have disturbed you at home.  
- No bother, Starling. I'll let you know if I've got news. Good night.  
- Good night, sir."  
  
Clarice did not know how to feel about all this. It had been a year since her last encounter with Lecter. And it had been rather messy. It had taken her months to recover and stop waking up in the middle of the night seeing Paul Krendler' s uncovered brain. She could have sworn she never wanted to have anything to do with this man anymore. And she would be sincere. But a little voice in her mind was whispering Hannibal Lecter was part of her life, whether she liked it or not.  
  
She got up from the couch. She knew a bookshop opened all night not so far from her place. She was sure she could find a copy of 'Hannibal Lecter - Anatomy of a Monster' there.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. If you want to leave a review, feel free. If you don't, feel free the same.  
Absolut.  
  



	2. Chapter 02

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I don't see how I could make any money of it anyway. I'm just borrowing them for a ride. I'll turn them back. I promise ... Or maybe not ...  
  
Notes: Thanks a lot for chapter 1 reviewers. Holly Jolly, don't worry, the Good Doctor will appear in due times ... You know how careful he is with his entrances ...  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Starling was looking like a zombie when she arrived at work the following morning. She had spent the whole night reading the 342 pages of nonsense written by Mc Dougall. The knowledge of the guy in terms of psychology were the ones of five years old child. The book, if it could be called so, was a collection of provocative sensational diatribes some tabloids would have refused to publish. Three hundred pages of National Tattler with a hard cover.  
  
The climax was reached when Mc Dougall strongly suggested that Lecter' s career as a cannibal started when he was only six years old and participated to the slaughtering and then the eating of his own younger sister. But Clarice was part of the feast too. A whole chapter was dedicated to the monster' s fiancee who, apparently like any woman the author knew, had an irresistible fascination for the beast that hides inside each man.  
  
Clarice would never understand how people could buy this kind of stuff. She was disgusted. What she could very well imagine instead was how Hannibal Lecter could have been upset if he had read these insanities. And she had no doubt he had.  
  
David was already working at their report when she arrived at her desk. She felt grateful for that. He looked up at her.  
  
" - Is this what you look like after twelve hours of sleep ?" he asked.  
" - Tough night. Good morning, David. Happy to see you too !"  
  
He grinned. She sat at her desk in front of him.  
  
" - So, what's the program for today ?" she asked.  
" - Krantz already dropped by. He wants a preliminary report in his office in two hours. Then we should proceed with the interrogation of the three gentlemen we put away yesterday. See if they have something to say to us.  
- Great ! I've always loved the company of gentlemen.  
- Yeah. That's why they put you to work with me. Punishment, they said."  
  
She chuckled. They would probably pass the whole day inside. This was not exactly what she liked best, but it was part of the job.  
  


* * *

  
They had been interrogating the three traffickers for more than two hours when David finally suggested to make a break for lunch. They hadn't learnt anything new so far and were both a little bit depressed. David offered to take her to the nice little italian restaurant they sometimes went together. It was a tempting proposal, but Clarice declined the invitation.  
  
" - Sorry, David. But there's something I've got to do and I wanted to profit by the break to do it. We can go tomorrow if you want.  
- No problem. I'll go home, then. We can meet again here, let's say ... in two hours ?  
- Perfect."  
  
Clarice let him go and got herself a sandwich from the slot machine. After a few minutes, she headed to the building that hosted the Behavioral Science Unit. It had been months she had not come here and she felt strange when she pushed the door she had pushed every day for more than ten years.  
  
She knew Crawford would be in his office. She had worked long enough with him to know his habits.  
  
Though the door of his office was open, she knocked gently. He looked up from the file he was reading and gave her a smile.  
  
" - Starling !" he said. " How comes I'm not surprised to see you ?  
- Well, I guess you know me better ... After all, profiling is part of your job.  
- Yeah. So it is. I guess you did not drop by just to say hello.  
- Not only, sir. I wondered if you would grant me a moment to talk about the Dubrowski case.  
- I thought I had been clear yesterday evening, Starling. There is not such a thing as the Dubrowski case. At least not for the FBI.  
- You've been perfectly clear, sir. Have you read Mc Dougall' s book ? "  
  
Crawford was surprised by the question, but not by Starling' s insistence.  
  
" - Not personally. But it has been analyzed by our experts when it came out. I have read their report.  
- I read it yesterday. This is pure tabloid stuff. Really, sir, it stinks."  
  
Crawford looked at her but did not say a word.  
  
" - Mr. Crawford, I know Hannibal Lecter. If he ever looked for a definition of the word 'rude', Christopher Mc Dougall would do perfectly. And we know what Dr. Lecter do with rude people, don't we ? Believe me, I don't feel any sympathy for Mc Dougall, but I think he is in real danger and should be protected. Whether he likes it or not.  
- You can't protect people against their will, Starling. You know that. Protection has been proposed, and refused. I don't see what more we could do."  
  
Starling knew Crawford would not appreciate what she had to say, but she felt it was her duty to say it anyway.  
  
" - He does not know what he is ahead of. For him, the last events just give him more publicity and push the sales of his book." She paused for a few seconds. " Let me talk to him.  
- What ! Starling, are you out of your mind ? I told you ...  
- I know what you told me, sir, but I think this is the only solution. If I can make him understand what he actually risks, how Lecter has treated his victims in the past, I can probably ...  
- Special Agent Starling !" Jack Crawford had stood up and was staring at her now. " You are no more part of the investigation on Hannibal Lecter. As far as you are concerned, the case is closed. Closed, do you understand me ?"  
  
His tone was firm, but she could hear no anger in his voice. She nodded. To be sure she had got the point, he went on:  
  
" - Whether Jonathan Dubrowski has been kidnapped by Lecter or not is none of your business. I can't prevent you from watching the news on TV, but if I were you, I would just let Lecter out of my life.  
- It's not about Lecter, sir. Believe me, last think I want is to see him again. It's about Mc Dougall. I know he is in danger. I am an agent from the FBI and I feel it's my duty to protect him if I have a way to do so.  
- You have other assignments, Starling. Let me do my job and I'll let you do yours. And, Starling, just in case you didn't get it, this is an order.  
- As you wish, Mr. Crawford."  
  
He calmed down. " You want a coffee ?" he asked. She accepted and he filled two mugs from the thermos he kept on his desk. As far back as she could remember, she always had seen this thermos on his desk. She knew it was a present from his wife. He noticed her look and smiled back at her.  
  
" - So, tell me ... " he said " How is Terry Krantz treating you ?  
- So far, so good." she said. "He's kind of ... demanding, but he is fair.  
- Yeah. Terry's a good man. Did you know we were at the academy together ?  
- Yes, he told me. That was actually the first thing he told me: 'Starling, Jack Crawford is one of my best friend and I respect him very much. But don't imagine that the fact you come from his team will give you any privilege here' "  
  
They both laugh at Clarice' s impersonation. They went on with a light discussion for a while. Starling was beginning to think she had to get back to work when Crawford' s telephone rang. He picked up the phone and answered. The conversation lasted about five minutes. Crawford' s correspondent was doing most of the talking. He only spat a few 'What' or 'When' or 'I see' every now and then. When he put down the receiver with a 'OK, I'll wait for you", his face was as white as a sheet.  
  
" - It was Mike Simpson." he said. " He wants to come and see me. There has been another disappearance.  
- Mc Dougall ?  
- No. Frank Sogliato. His agent.  
- What happened ?  
- He just did not come back home yesterday evening. That's all I know for the moment. Clarice ... I'd rather not have you here when Simpson arrives.  
- I understand.  
- Thank you. I'll let you know if I learn anything new. But meantime, you stay away from all this, umh ?  
- Sure. Good-bye Mr. Crawford."  
  
He nodded at her. She left Crawford' s office with such a feeling of frustration that she could not think of anything else. She knew it was Lecter. It could only be Lecter. How could they be so blind. She understood Crawford' s reasons but she could not help feeling mad at him.  
  
She tried to recompose a bit. David was waiting for her. They had a job to do. Hannibal Lecter would have to wait.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. If you want to leave a review, feel free. If you don't, feel free the same.  
Absolut.  
  



	3. Chapter 03

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I don't see how I could make any money of it anyway. I'm just borrowing them for a ride. I'll turn them back. I promise ... Or maybe not ...  
  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Clarice had dropped by at her apartment just to change in something more suitable. She was now driving her Mustang in the streets of Washington. Finding the address of Mc Dougall had been easy. Crawford would probably be mad at her when he would discover she had searched his files, but for the moment she didn't care.  
  
She passed the building where Mc Dougall was living and parked a few blocks away. The neighborhood was rather upper class. While walking in the streets, Clarice could smell the money everywhere. She was happy she had put on the only classy suit she had: she would have been easily spotted in one of her pairs of lousy jeans. As she was getting closer, she tried to find the agent Crawford had assigned to the surveillance of Mc Dougall. Without success.  
  
She entered a little Chinese restaurant right in front of the building and asked for a table by the window. She was in no hurry. She ordered a dry Martini and the waiter brought her the menu. It was 8 pm and the streets were pretty crowded with people going back home.   
  
She enjoyed her dinner. Food was good and the place was quiet. She had been peering outside for more than one hour when she finally noticed it. An old brown Chevrolet parked about thirty feet from the restaurant on the other side of the street. A man in his late forties had got into the car more than ten minutes before, but had not started the engine, and was not looking as if he was going soon. He was reading a newspaper and Clarice saw him glancing at the building entrance from time to time.  
  
Clarice finished her desert and asked for a coffee and the bill. She generously tipped the waiter and went out. She had seen the building was equipped with an intercom. The door was probably locked and she could not afford to wait before it for someone to open it. Though she did not know the agent staking out in the chevy, she was sure her face was known enough for him to recognize her if she gave her a chance to.  
  
She headed to a kid selling papers at the corner of the street. She bought him a copy of the Washington Post.  
  
" - How would you like making ten dollars easily ?" she asked. The kid looked at her. She had got his attention. "You see that building over there ?" he nodded. "I need to get inside, discreetly.  
- You don't really look like a burglar, miss. But I won't do anything illegal ... At least not for ten bugs ..."  
  
She showed him her FBI id. He gave her a big smile.  
  
" - Where I live, you can get this stuff for less than ten bugs, lady.  
- This one is real.  
...  
- What am I supposed to do ?  
- You get inside first. Use the intercom. Find an excuse. Get someone to open the door. Then, you wait for me in the hall, keeping the door slightly open.  
- That's all ?  
- That's all. When I'm inside, you get your money."  
  
He thought for a while.   
  
"- Twenty bugs" . She smiled.  
"- Fifteen. And that's all you'll get from me. I can find someone else.  
- Lady, you've got a deal."  
  
Clarice crossed the street and started waiting, faking to be fascinated by a shop window. Two minutes later the kid was inside. She waited for a group of people to pass behind her and followed them. They would mask her from the agent in the car. In the twinkling of an eye, she was inside. She paid the kid and he left quickly.  
  
She had a look at the mail boxes. Mc Dougall' s apartment was on the first floor. She went to the stairs. Clarice was not feeling sorry for what she was about to do. Yes, she had promised Crawford she would not intervene. But that was as an FBI agent. She was also a private person, whose name had been mentioned in a book without her authorization. And she was perfectly justified to go to the author and let him know what she thought of him.  
  


* * *

  
If Clarice had managed to fool the FBI agent staking out at Mc Dougall' s place, she certainly got the attention of the man hiding in the alley at the corner of the building. He had seen her entering the restaurant, and had been carefully watching her since. He appreciated the way she managed entering the building and was very curious to see if she could make it out without being noticed.  
  
It had been one year since he had last seen her, but he had followed her career with attention. She was looking good. A lazy smile ran on Hannibal Lecter' s face. Playing with the FBI was rather boring to him. But if Clarice Starling was around, then it was a completely different game. This could really become interesting, after all. They could have some fun ...  
  


* * *

  
She knocked on the door. A vietnamese housemaid came and opened the door. She gave her her name and asked to see Mr. Mc Dougall. No, she did not have any appointment but she was sure Mr. Mc Dougall would see her. She was introduced into a little hall and waited there for a few seconds.  
  
" - Agent Starling ! What an honor ! I never hoped to see you in my humble home. But I assure you it is a pleasure. Tell me, what can I do for you ?  
- I need to talk to you, Mr. Mc Dougall.  
- Sure. But please, come in. We will be more comfortable in the sitting room."  
  
She followed him down a corridor, which walls were covered with famous paintings. Mostly bad copies, she thought. The man was very much what she expected. He was not much more than 5 ft tall, and was rather stout. He was younger than what she thought, though. Maybe thirty five ... forty at maximum. A pair of thick glasses was grotesquely magnifying his little black weasel eyes.  
  
The sitting room was a nice surprise. It was cozy and tastefully furnished. He designated a large brown leather couch to her.  
  
" - Please, sit down. Can I offer you a drink or something ?  
- Nothing. Thank you."  
  
He sat on a big armchair in front of her and took a sip of what looked like Cognac. A big brown cigar was smoking in an ashtray on the coffee table.  
  
" - Do you mind my smoking ?" he asked courteously.  
" - Not at all.  
- So, you said you wanted to talk to me ?  
- Yes, sir. About Hannibal Lecter.  
- I see. Should I assume you have read my book, then ?  
- I have.  
- Umh ... And I guess you did not really ... appreciate it. Am I wrong ?  
- No. But that's not what I came here for.  
- What a pity ! I hoped maybe you could give me your opinion. After all, you are the only person having seen Lecter - how could I phrase it - in action ? And still able to talk about it. I'm sure you could reveal interesting information to me. Just in case I would want to write a second one ..."  
  
The smile he gave her was openly lustful. Starling looked at him with disgust. She sure had some interesting information for him: if he went on looking at her this way, she would kill him before Lecter had a chance to do so.  
  
" - You mean if Hannibal Lecter would let you write another one." Mc Dougall chuckled.  
" - Do you really feel concerned about my safety, agent Starling ? I'm flattered.  
- Don't. I suppose you know what happened to your agent ?  
- I do. Inspector Simpson called me this afternoon. He also insisted that I accept his protection and sounded really disappointed when I refused.  
- I don't think you should consider this so lightly, Mr. Mc Dougall. If Lecter is behind the disappearance of your publisher and your agent, you should seriously fear for your life.  
- Should I ?  
- I know Hannibal Lecter. As you pointed out, I've seen what he's able to do. I've seen him cutting through the brain of Paul Krendler without even blinking. You shouldn't think he would hesitate to kill you, or anybody he would feel offended by.  
- And even if it was so, even if Lecter had killed Dubrowski and Frank, if Lecter had decided to kill me, do you honestly believe Simpson and his men would be able to protect me ?"  
  
Mc Dougall was not wrong. Clarice knew it. She did not know what to answer. Mc Dougall profited by her silence to go on.  
  
" I partly agree with you, agent Starling. Lecter has probably kidnapped my publisher and my agent. And he may have killed them by now. Maybe eaten them as well." The peace in his tone made Clarice shiver. He noticed it. "Don't take me wrong. I cared for these two men. They were my friends. But I'm being realistic: there's nothing I can do for them anymore. The real question, you see, is why did Lecter call on them instead of going for me ? If he really wanted to kill me, why didn't he just do so. I was as easy a prey as Jonathan or Frank. Easier maybe. So why didn't he just take me away ? Do you have an answer to this question, agent Starling ?"  
  
It was the same question Clarice herself had put to Jack Crawford. But she hadn't an answer for it. At least not one she could believe in.  
  
" - He may just want to play with you, Mr. Mc Dougall. Scare you to death before he gets to you.  
- Come on, agent Starling. You know better. Lecter doesn't feed on fear, he feeds on pain. You know it.  
- I guess you have an answer to your question, sir, haven't you ?"  
  
He winked at her. Starling had to use all her self-control not to slap his face.  
  
" I don't believe Hannibal Lecter wants to kill me anymore than he wants to kill you. I believe this was his answer to my book. I believe Lecter was flattered with it, and he wants to make me know. I am one of the few men on this earth who have understood him, and who he is. And I think he respects that."  
  
Starling stared at him in disbelief. The only thing that could measure up with the man' s presumption was his stupidity. Crawford was right: you can't protect people against their will. And she now could add: you can't protect people against your will. She stood up.  
  
" - Well, in that case I think I have nothing else to do here, Mr. Mc Dougall. I will leave and let you enjoy the rest of your evening. Sorry to have disturbed you.  
- Not at all, agent Starling, not at all. It has been a real pleasure. I only regret you have to leave so soon. I hope you will come back.  
- I don't think so, sir."  
  
Clarice did not give him the time to escort her to the door. She left before he could add another word.  
  
Once she had closed the door, Clarice stopped a few seconds to recollect her senses. The guy was a real asshole. Even worse than what she had expected from reading his book. Crawford was right: she should never have come. Now all she wanted to do was get out of here and forget everything about Mc Dougall or his 'friends', or Hannibal Lecter.  
  


* * *

  
The cold made her chill when she went out. She pulled up the collar of her jacket and started to walk fast towards her car. She had only covered a few feet when she suddenly felt a hand grab on her face and pull her back quickly. She tried to set herself free from the grip but a second hand caught both her arms and immobilized her. She was now strongly maintained against a man' s chest. She tried to fight but soon realized her efforts were vain. The guy was stronger then her and she decided to save her forces. There was a moment of stillness and silence, but then the man started whispering in her ear.  
  
"Our friend from the FBI is not far from your car now, Clarice. Considering how you entered the building, I figured out you were not particularly eager to make contact. Was I wrong ?"  
  
Clarice froze. God, she would recognized this voice out of a thousand ones. She tried to release herself from his grip.  
  
" Sh ... Stay quiet, Clarice. I realize how uncomfortable your position is and I apologize for this. I'm willing to help, but I need your word that you're not going to start screaming as soon as I remove my hand. Can I count on this ?" She nodded. "All right." he said and slowly he removed his hand from her mouth, only to let it rest a few inches lower, on her throat. She tried to turn to him but he firmly maintained her face in the opposite direction.  
  
" - No, Clarice. You don't need to see me now.  
- Dr. Lecter ...  
- Yes ?  
- What are you doing here, Dr. Lecter ?  
- Well, I could ask you the same question, Clarice. If I'm not wrong, you are no more working for Jack Crawford, are you ? And your fellow agent there does. By the way, his name is Finch, Harold Finch. But I think his friend just call him Harry. I've been observing you for a while and I didn't get the impression that you were willing to talk with Harry. Were you ?"  
  
Clarice did not answer. More than frightened, she was upset the man had spotted her so easily and that he always seemed to know what she was thinking. His mouth came closer to her ears.  
  
" - Oh Clarice ! Don't tell me you were preoccupied by the health of Christopher Mc Dougall ...  
- I had good reasons to be." she spat.  
" - I see. You are probably referring to the unfortunate disappearance of Mr. Dubrowski and Mr. Sogliato.  
- Are they dead, Dr. Lecter ?" He did not answer at once. "Are they dead ?  
- What do you think, Clarice ? Really, I'm interested. Do you think I killed them ?  
- I don't know, Dr. Lecter. Tell me.  
- Well, Clarice, death is part of man' s destiny, isn't it ? Sometimes it comes sooner than one would expect, but who could say when or how death would strike ? But enough with this gloomy conversation. So, apparently you had a little discussion with Mr. Mc Dougall. How did you find him ? Did he try to seduce you ?  
- He's a jerk. Definitely stupid and pretentious. Is this what you wanted to hear from me ?  
...  
- No. I was sincerely interested in your opinion. Have you read his book ?  
- I have.  
- Did you enjoy it ? I did. Tough I thought he was pretty unfair in the the chapter dedicated to you.  
...  
- All right. I already admitted I can't stand the man, but it does not mean I want him dead. What do you have in mind, Dr. Lecter ?  
- I don't know yet, Clarice. I was just thinking of a few possible scenario." He paused. "One thing I'm curious about, though ... You and I know how much you've tried to put me behind bars again, how much efforts and courage you dedicated to my capture ... and yet some people go on calling you my fiancee. Why is that, do you think ? How do you feel about it, Clarice ?  
- I don't feel about it, Dr. People are free to think what they want. I don't care.  
- Yeah ... Brave Clarice ... Umh, I think the way to your car is safe, now. I can see Harry is back in his car. I would really like to go on with this conversation, but unfortunately, there are a few things I have to do. You can go home, now. Don't worry, I won't call on Mr. Mc Dougall. Not tonight, anyway. Good bye Clarice."  
  
Before she could realize what was happening, his lips were on the back of her neck. He kissed her very softly. And then he was gone.  
  
She turned back but the alley was as dark as coal. At one point, she thought she had seen something moving on her right, but the time she turned to it, it was quiet again.  
  
"Dr. Lecter ?" she called out loud. But the only answer she got was the mewing of a cat. Instinctively, Clarice put her fingers to her neck, where she could still feel the heat of his kiss.  
  
"God damn you, Dr. Lecter" she mumbled. Then she got to her car.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. If you want to leave a review, feel free. If you don't, feel free the same.  
Absolut.  
  



	4. Chapter 04

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I don't see how I could make any money of it anyway. I'm just borrowing them for a ride. I'll turn them back. I promise ... Or maybe not ...  
  
Notes: I know this is a short chapter, but I couldn't resist to the pleasure of a little conversation between Clarice and the Good Doctor. Hope you will enjoy it too. Many thanks to the reviewers of previous chapters.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
The house was only ten miles from Washington but it looked like deep in the countryside. The park was vast enough to guarantee his privacy. Besides, the security systems were the state of the art. The only modification he had had to do was to disconnect them from the police department. Had anyone be so bold as to disturb his peace, he could deal with his own security himself.  
  
Hannibal Lecter parked the jaguar in the garage, next to the pickup. He closed the sliding door and headed to the main entrance. The night was cold and clear. The stars were bright and the moon was almost full. He took a deep breath and savored the odor of the night.  
  
Once inside, he hung his coat and went directly to the sitting room. Without switching on the light, he helped himself a glass of Cognac and went to sit in the large armchair by the window. He touched lightly the remote control and the music of an aria from Bach started filling the room. He closed his eyes.  
  
He let the memory of her scent cloud his mind. To be so close to her after all this time had generated in him a turmoil of emotions he did not expect. He had not realized he had missed her so much until his hand touched her skin. He smiled at the memory of her resisting his grip. You can never get rid of me, Clarice Starling. Not in a thousand years ...  
  
He lowered the music and took the phone. He knew the number by hard but it was the first time he was actually dialing it.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice had been in her bed for two hours, but sleep had apparently decided not to come. She was thinking again about her conversation with Mc Dougall and was wondering if she could have handled it in a different and better way.   
  
"I am one of the few men on this earth who have understood him, and who he is. And I think he respects that." What kind of fool could utter such bullshit. Did he really believe in that ? If he did, he was more stupid than Clarice had imagined. She hadn't the pretense to understand Lecter, but one thing she was sure of was that he would never feel anything like 'respect' for a man like Mc Dougall. He might find it amusing to play a bit with him, but it would not last long. And then ...  
  
Clarice was trying to focus her thoughts on Mc Dougall to keep her mind away from what happened in the alley. She was just avoiding the facts, and she knew it. As well as she knew she could not win at this little game. Sooner or later she would have to cope with it. But she did not feel ready yet.  
  
She switched on the lamp on her bedside table and grabbed the book next to it. "The Great Train Robbery" by Michael Crichton. Well, that would do. Anything that would not deal with cannibalism or serial killers of psychiatrists or brain surgery or Florence or ... OK, let's try with trains.  
  
She sat in her bed and started to concentrate on her reading. She was about to succeed when the ring of her telephone startled her. Se had a look at the clock: 3:47 am. "Who the h..." She hesitated a moment before answering. But it could be the office ... It could only be the office: who else would call her in the middle of the night. she picked up the receiver.  
  
" - Starling." No answer. "Who's there ?" No answer. She was getting nervous. "I'm warning you, I'm not in the perfect mood for playing guesses. So either you have something to say or I hang up.  
- Good evening, Clarice.   
- Dr. Lecter ?" So much for trying to forget him ! "Dr. Lecter, what the f...  
- I just wanted to be sure you made it home safe. The streets of Washington are so insecure these days. You never know what kind of maniac you could encounter there.  
- I realized that tonight !" She heard him chuckle. "And you had to wake me up in the middle of the night for that ?  
- I'm sorry if I did, Clarice. I had not realized it was so late. I could not find sleep and I thought ... Well, forget about it. The important thing is that you are all right. Good night now."  
  
Clarice' s mind was racing. She could not just let him hang up.  
  
" - Dr. Lecter, wait !" she almost shouted. If she could reach her cell phone, she might be able to alert the FBI and have the call traced. She had to try. He had not hung up. "Dr. Lecter, are you still here ?  
- Yes, Clarice. I'm still here. What's on your mind ?  
- Well, now that you have waken me up, I thought we could talk a little. You surprised me sooner in the alley and I was not quite myself. There are so many things I'd like to know and ...  
- You thought maybe I could help. Tell me."  
  
Clarice was in the kitchen now, searching for her cell phone in her jacket. She had to play smart. If he suspected anything strange he would hang up immediately.  
  
" - How long have you been back in the United States, Dr. Lecter ?  
- What makes you think I ever left ?   
- Well, after what happened at Krendler' s house, I thought ... I mean, your safety ...  
- You thought leaving the country would have been the smartest thing to do." Clarice had found her phone and was looking for Crawford' s number now. "Not necessarily, Clarice. Yours is a very wide country, with plenty of places to hide. And the access to the ultimate technologies. For instance, did you know that with a minimum of knowledge and the right accesses you can build yourself a virtual satellite network that would make it almost impossible to trace your phone calls ? Or at least not in less than one hour ..."  
  
Clarice put her cell phone on the table. Of course he knew what she was about to do.  
  
" - And I guess you find it very funny, don't you ?" She sighed.  
" - No, Clarice. But considering your attempt to locate me would have failed, I thought it was fair to tell you. Had you manage to reach Jack Crawford, you would have had to explain to him how we met tonight ... and what you were doing at Mc Dougall' s place. A lot of embarrassing questions ... and for no tangible result. I thought I could spare you the pain.  
- Thank you, Dr. Lecter. Is there anything you don't know about my life ?  
- There might be a few things ... But a gentleman should never ask."  
  
As she did not answer he went on.  
  
" - I realize that now that your attempt to find me has failed, you may not have any more interests in our little conversation, have you, Clarice ? I should probably let you go back to sleep.  
- I was not sleeping.  
- I see.  
- I was thinking about Mc Dougall. Trying to find a way to protect him from you. One thing I would like to know, though ...  
- Yes ?  
- Why did you get after Dubrowski and Sogliato ? Why not go directly for Mc Dougall ? After all, he has written that god-damned book. He is the one you should be angry about."  
  
She heard him laugh.  
  
" - Is he ?" he asked. "Things are not always what they seem, Clarice. You should know by now. No, I'm not angry about Mr. Mc Dougall. Neither was I about Mr. Dubrowski or Mr. Sogliato. Think of them as messengers, rather than targets.  
- Messengers to whom, Dr. Lecter ?  
- To the person responsible for all this. As Mr. Mc dougall has been a messenger to me. You see, I have just answered a letter I received.  
- I don't follow, Dr. Lecter. What are you talking about ?  
- I know this sounds a little bit confusing, Clarice. And I'm sorry I cannot be more explicit for the moment. But I have told you all I could tell you. For my safety, and for your own. The rest, you will have to discover by yourself. I will leave you now. I think you should take some rest. Good night, Clarice.  
- Dr. Lecter ?"  
  
He had hung up. She stayed like that staring at the phone for a couple of minutes, unable to decide what she should think of the conversation she just had, almost doubting it had been real. Then she left the kitchen and went back to her bedroom. Five minutes later, she was sleeping like a baby.  
  


* * *

  
Hannibal Lecter turned the volume of the stereo higher. He removed his shoes and laid on the couch. As soon as he closed his eyes, the face of Clarice Starling appeared to him, peacefully asleep. "Sleep well, Clarice. And have sweet dreams."  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. If you want to leave a review, feel free. If you don't, feel free the same.  
Absolut.  
  



	5. Chapter 05

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I don't see how I could make any money of it anyway. I'm just borrowing them for a ride. I'll turn them back. I promise ... Or maybe not ...  
  
Notes: Sorry for posting so late, but I've been a little bit busy. Next chapter should come up soon. Many thanks to the reviewers of previous chapters.  
  
**Chapter 5**  
  
Clarice was feeling strangely good and fresh, considering she had slept only two hours. They had started investigating the serial numbers of the weapons they had seized to try to link them to registered crimes and criminal. This meant a tedious day in front of a computer, and she generally did not appreciate such activities. But today, she did it with enthusiasm. David was discreetly glancing at her in disbelief.  
  
After two hours, they finally started to get some results. One of the rifles had apparently been used in a failed bank robbery in Texas six months before. One of the burglar had been killed during the assault of the police and his gun had been seized. Then, the question was how the rifle arrived from the Dallas police deposit to a warehouse near Washington DC. David took the phone and asked someone at the Dallas FBI office to investigate with the local Police Department to see what had happened.  
  
They definitely had deserved a good lunch. David renewed his invitation for the Italian restaurant and this time got a very positive answer. They had only just gone out of the building when Starling' s cell phone rang. She took the call. "Starling. ... Yes, Mr. Krantz ..." David grinned at her. " No. I was going for lunch with agent Scomb ... Yes, I understand ... No. No problem, really ... I'll be with you in a minute."  
  
She looked at David with a smile:  
  
" - Dave, it seems I'm not eating Italian today !  
- This I had understood. What does the master want from you ?  
- Don't know. He did not tell. He just wants to see me in his office. Sorry.  
- No problem. Well, if it doesn't last too long, you know where to find me.  
- OK. See you later."  
  
Krantz phone call had disturbed a bit her good mood. While climbing the stairs she was wondering why he had asked her to come so urgently. If it was about the case, why hadn't he asked for David too ?  
  
Krantz secretary was gone for lunch. She knocked at her boss' door and opened it. As soon as she entered the office, she understood they were not going to talk about the case she was working on. In front of Krantz was seated Jack Crawford. She stopped.  
  
" - Starling. Come in." Krantz said, his voice not giving out a clue of what his mood was. "Sit down." She complied.  
- Mr. Krantz, Mr. Crawford." she managed to keep her voice calm.  
- Starling," Krantz continued. "Jack has come to me this morning to tell me about something ... let's say ... a little bit embarrassing. It seems it has been reported to him that one of my agents had been encroaching on his land last night. I'm sure there is a rational explanation for this, but I just can't make it out right now. Maybe you could help ?"  
  
Clarice closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  
  
" - There is none, sir." she whispered. "I felt I had to talk with Mr. Mc Dougall and ...  
- And Jack Crawford here explicitly told you he did not want you to do so, is that correct ?  
- Yes, sir. He did.  
- Well, in that case, could you tell me why you ignored his orders and went there anyway ?  
- I thought I had to do it, sir. I'm really convinced Mr. Mc Dougall is in danger and I wanted to try to convince him to accept the protection of the police.  
- I see.  
- But I never said to him I was coming on behalf of the FBI, sir. It was a kind of ... personal initiative. After all, Mc Dougall has mentioned my name in his book ... without asking for my permission. It is natural I feel involved. I mean, as a private person ...  
- But you are an FBI agent, aren't you, Starling ?  
- Yes, sir."  
  
Crawford hadn't said a word since she had entered the office. But he kept his eyes locked on her. Krantz started again.  
  
" - And of course, you have other reasons to feel 'personally involved' when it is about Lecter, haven't you ?" Clarice felt her cheeks become red.  
" - I have no personal relationship with Hannibal Lecter, sir" she said. "He was at the center of a case I worked on in the past and that's all. I just happen to know what he is able to do and felt it was my duty to let Mr. Mc dougall know about the danger he is exposing himself to.  
- Relax, Starling. Relax ... Jack ?"  
  
Crawford nodded at him and then looked back at Clarice. " I did not come to Terry to have you reproved, Starling." he started. I came to ask his permission to have you back in Behavioral Science, on a temporary assignment, of course." Clarice looked at the two men in disbelief. "It seems I can't keep you out anyway. So, I figured out that if you had to get involved, better have you on our side than working on your own. Since this morning, the Bureau is officially on the case. You are the person who knows Lecter the best. And I sure could use you. Terry has agreed to relieve you from your current assignment. What do you say ?"  
  
Clarice could not believe it. a minute before she was expecting to be fired. And now, she was offered a job.  
  
" - It's OK for me, sir. I mean, if Mr. Krantz agrees, then ... What about the investigation on the weapons ?  
- I'll give Scomb another agent to help him. He'll manage.  
- Then ...  
- So, we have a deal." Crawford concluded. "You have an appointment with Mike Simpson at 2:30 pm in his office downtown, Starling. I told him you would work with him on the disappearance of Frank Sogliato. See if you can find some leads. Simpson will give you all necessary information. Just report to me this evening.  
- All right, sir."  
  
Both men were expecting her to go, but she had something to tell them first.  
  
" - Sir. There is something you should know.  
- What is it again, Starling ?" Krantz asked. Clarice hesitated a bit before answering.  
" - I met Dr. Lecter yesterday evening.  
- What ?" Crawford had jumped off his chair. "How ?  
- He was ... expecting me outside Mc Dougall' s building. He took me by surprise. He immobilized me. I did not have time to react. He did not even let me look at him, but I'm sure it was him.  
- Did he hurt you ?" Krantz asked.  
" - No. I think he just wanted to talk to me.  
- What did he say ?" Crawford had raised his voice.  
" - It only lasted a few minutes, sir. He did not say much. Except he implicitly admitted he kidnapped Dubrowski and Sogliato.  
- Did he kill them ?  
- I asked, but he did not answer. Lecter scarcely answer directly to questions. But frankly, sir, I don't believe we should expect to find them alive.  
- And that's all he said ?  
- Yes. Oh no. He also spotted agent Finch.  
- Damn ! "  
  
Crawford sat back on the chair. He was still staring at her.  
  
" - When did you plan to tell me that, Starling ?  
- I was, sir ... It's just that ... Wasn't easy. You ordered me not to go there and ... It's not like if Lecter had given me really valuable information.  
- All right, Starling. I suppose I can count on you for telling me if he ever contacts you again, can I ?  
- Certainly, sir"  
  
Clarice mentally cursed herself. She hadn't talked about the phone call. She knew she should have, but she simply could not. For God knows what reasons, she was considering this moment of intimacy with Hannibal Lecter as something personal.  
  
Starling and Crawford left together.  
  
" - How did you know, sir ?" she asked when they were in the elevator. "Did Mc Dougall complain ?  
- He had his lawyer call us this morning. He asked us to commit we would no more disturb his client' s peace.  
- I see. I wonder why he did that.  
- No idea, Clarice. I really don't care about Mc Dougall' s peace anyway. Let's go to work, now. Remember: I want your report tonight.  
- You'll have it, sir."  
  


* * *

  
The police station was crowded and smoky. She went to the first officer she saw and asked for chief inspector Simpson. It was so noisy she could hardly hear her own voice. The office showed her to Simpson office. It was open, so she simply went in.  
  
" - Chief inspector Simpson ? I am special agent Clarice Starling, from the FBI. I think Jack Crawford told you about me.  
- He did. Please, come in. And you can call me Mike.  
- Clarice."  
  
He stood up to shake her hands. Simpson was about fifty years old. He was rather sturdy, but not fat. His hair was beginning to turn gray and the first wrinkles had appeared on his face. But his piercing black eyes were literally shining with intelligence.  
  
" - Welcome on board, Clarice." he said. "Really need help on that one. Did they tell you about the details ?  
- No. They told me you would.  
- Right."  
  
They both sat and he started summarizing the case for her. Sogliato had left his office at seven, as every evening. At nine, as he had not come home, his wife started worrying and she tried to call him. But she got no answer, neither in office nor on his cell phone. She waited a few hours more, regularly trying to contact him and his friends and colleagues. But in vain. At 3:00 am, she had called the police.  
  
Unlike for Dubrowski, Sogliato' s car had been found the day after, abandoned in the parking lot of a supermarket about two miles from his office. Of course, the scientific experts from Washington police department had examined every single inch of the car, but the only traces they had found, finger prints, hair, ... had been identified as belonging to Sogliato himself or one of his relatives.  
  
The police was still trying to find witnesses but had little hope now.  
  
" - Well, to make it short, we don't have anything looking like a clue." Simpson concluded. " The guy just disappeared, and that's all.  
- Did the family notice anything strange in the previous days ?  
- Nope. Nothing at home. Nothing at his office."  
  
Clarice nodded. It was her turn now.  
  
" - What do you know about Hannibal Lecter, Mike ?  
- What I read in the papers or saw on TV. Including what they wrote about you."  
  
Clarice smiled. She appreciated his honesty. She started telling him all she knew about Lecter, from their very first encounter to the one last night. She gave him all the elements of his psychological profile as she had drawn it. She made it as complete as possible, leaving only her personal feelings outside. Not that she did not feel comfortable with Simpson, but simply she could not make out what she was feeling.  
  
" - You know that as soon as they find out you're working with me, the media will start the whole thing all over again ?" Simpson simply said at the end of her long speech.  
" - I know. And I don't mind. I'm used to it.  
- Good. Let's go back to work, then."  
  
Simpson introduced her to the rest of the team. There were actually three inspectors and two officers. Together, they started making a list of the possible places where Lecter could have gone in the area. Starling had a pretty fair idea of the kind of place he would live in, or the style of furniture or goods he could have bought. They included all luxury store in a fifty miles range from Washington, as well as the museums. Starling had brought with her the latest picture they had from Lecter. Copies were distributed to each member of the team and they split the work by area.  
  
Simpson and Starling instead would concentrate on the houses. They were looking for something rather big and isolated. Lecter could have bought or rented the place. They would start with the real estates, looking for transactions in the last six months regarding luxurious properties. Money was not a problem. He could afford the best. Clarice knew the chances that Lecter had been stupid enough to leave them a lead were poor. But they had to try something.  
  
It was already late when they finished drawing their plans. Besides, Clarice still had to go and report to Crawford. They decided they would re-start in the morning.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. If you want to leave a review, feel free. If you don't, feel free the same._  
_Absolut._  
  



	6. Chapter 06

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I don't see how I could make any money of it anyway. I'm just borrowing them for a ride. I'll turn them back. I promise ... Or maybe not ... Some phrases have borrowed too, but take it as a tribute to the author.  
  
Notes: As usual, THANK YOU to the reviewers of previous chapters. Took me some time to upload this one, but it's a lonnnng one. Hope you enjoy it.  
  
**Chapter 6**  
  
Clarice did not know there could be so many estate agencies in a single state. It had been two days she and Mike Simpson were systematically controlling each of them. No one had recognized Lecter so far, but the list was still long.  
  
Her feet were hurting. She was tired and hungry. It was past 10:00 pm and Simpson had gone home. She was alone in his office now. She wanted to check on the web the companies that were offering estates on-line. That was another possibility. "Where are you, Dr. Lecter ?" she spoke out loud. She could not decide what upset her more: the fact that as an FBI agent she failed to find him, or the fact that he did not contact her. She sighed. "Starling, you're out of your mind" she whispered. It was Saturday night, and she had deserved a day off. She shut down Simpson' s computer and went out.  
  
The cold air outside revived her. While walking to her car, she started making plans for Sunday. She would start with a good jogging to evacuate the tension. Then she could drop by the market and get fresh food to cook herself a real lunch. She needed a change from all the canned goods and sandwiches she swallowed during the week. Then maybe she would take a book and go to Paterson park. If it rained, she would just curled in her couch to read.  
  
The traffic was light at this hour and she was home in less than fifteen minutes. She took her mail and climbed the stairs to her apartment. She put some water to boil for the pasta and went to the sitting room. She turned on the stereo and went to sit in the armchair to open her mail.  
  
The last thing Clarice remembered was the pressure of a wet tissue on her mouth and the feeling of nausea. Then she lost consciousness.  
  


* * *

  
Hannibal had been waiting in Clarice' s apartment since half past five. It had given him the time to look around and immerse himself into her life. He had opened all the closets and smelt her clothes. He had read old letters and explored the content of her computer hard disk. The poorness of what he found in the fridge really upset him. "You should take better care of yourself, Clarice. This is not even food, as I understand the definition."  
  
Finally, hidden between a pile of old copies of magazines, he had found a photo album. Her whole life was summed up in these few pages. The first picture was one of her in her mother' s arms when she was a baby; the last one was taken when she graduated at the FBI academy. Nothing since ... as if her life had been interrupted.  
  
The photo that moved him more though was one of Clarice with her father. She must have been seven or eight years old. She was already very pretty, even if a little bit too skinny. She looked happy at that time. What got him was the intensity of her eyes when looking at her father. There was so much love in them, so much admiration and trust. Would she ever look at him with these eyes ?  
  
At around 8 pm, he switched off the light and hid behind the thick curtain at the sitting room window. And he started to wait in silence. The handkerchief and the little bottle of chloroform were ready. All he had had to do was to be patient. And this he was.  
  
  
It had been easy. Sitting in the armchair, she was turning her back to him. She did not hear him approaching. He caught her by surprise and she did not even fight. Now she was peacefully asleep. Her breathing was regular and he checked her pulse. Everything was all right.  
  
He went to the kitchen to stop the gas under the pan. The door keys were on the table. He took them and put them in his pocket. Then in her bedroom ... In a little bag he found under her bed he packed a few clothes and her toilet bag. He also picked a blanket from a cupboard and went back to her.  
  
He delicately wrapped her in the blanket. The night was fresh and he did not want her to catch a cold. Then he put the bag on his shoulder and gently carried Clarice in his arms. Her head was resting against his shoulder and he could feel her breathing against his neck. He smiled.  
  
The back street where he had parked his car was empty. He settled Clarice in the Jaguar and locked her safety bell. After ensuring she would be comfortable, he reached the driver seat.  
  
He drove home carefully. From time to time he had a glance at the woman next to him. He needn't worry, she would be sleeping for a few hours. She looked so much younger when she was asleep.  
  
When they arrived home, he carried her to the guest bedroom. He laid her on the large bed and sat next to her. He did not undress her. He brushed away a curl of hair that had dropped on her eyes. He stayed there a few minutes, watching her sleep. Then he went to his own room and went to bed. Sleep came easily that night. He slowly dozed off with a sigh of contentment.  
  


* * *

  
As Clarice opened her eyes she did not recognized her environment. She sat up in the bed a little bit too abruptly and the pain in her head made her blink. She was feeling slightly dizzy and it take her a few seconds to recollect her senses.  
  
The bedroom was large and artfully furnished. "What the hell am I doing here ?" Then the memory of the previous evening came back to her. She had lost consciousness. No, someone had drugged her. But that was yesterday night. Now she could see the sun light through the large window curtain. How long had she been here ? And where was 'here', in the first place ? She checked herself and saw she was not hurt. She got up.  
  
"Was it you, Dr. Lecter ?" she asked silently. Of course it was him. It could only be him. To her surprise, the thought reassured her a bit. She looked around in the room and saw her bag on a little coffee table. She got closer and opened it. Apparently he had planned she would stay here for a while.  
  
She went to the door. It opened easily. She had a look in the corridor: no one. She headed to the stairs and went down. When she arrived at the ground floor she heard some noise coming from behind a half opened door. She approached it silently and had a look inside.  
  
He was there standing in the kitchen, his back turned to her, apparently busy cooking something. He was humming something but not loud enough so she could understand what. She pushed the door opened but did not enter the room. He heard it and turned his face to her.  
  
" - Clarice, good morning.  
- Good morning, Dr. Lecter.  
- It's not even seven, you could have slept longer. After all, it's Sunday.  
- What am I doing here, Dr. Lecter ?"  
  
He did not miss the determination in her look, but it was to early to give her an answer. He seemed to think about it for a moment. "Explanations will come in due times, Clarice. But first, I think you should have a good breakfast. I'm afraid you skipped dinner yesterday and I feel a little bit guilty about it." As she did not answer or move he went on: "Are you going to spend whole day in the doorway ? Please, come in and sit. Your eggs are almost ready."  
  
She stepped in and without a word went to sit at the table he had dressed for her.  
  
" - That's better." he said. "Now tell me, did you sleep well ?  
- You ensured I would, didn't you ?  
- Yeah. Sorry about the chloroform, but I did not think you would have accepted a normal invitation. You may still feel slightly nauseous but it will disappear when you eat something."  
  
He turned back to his cooking.  
  
" - Where are we, Dr. Lecter ?" He gave her an amused look.  
" - Home, Clarice. This is where we are. I mean **my** home, of course. The one you've been desperately searching for for the last two days.  
- You have followed me ...  
- Not exactly. I was ... how could I phrase it ... keeping an eye on chief inspector Simpson. But I must confess that when I saw you with him, my interest grew.  
- I see. Then you know that the reason why I was looking for you was to arrest you.  
- I do, Clarice."  
  
He turned back to her and came closer to the table. He was carrying a plate with fried bacon and eggs that made her salivate and a glass of home-made orange juice. He laid the plate and the glass in front of her. For the first time she saw the prosthetic on his left hand replacing his thumb and forefinger. If he saw her gaze, he did not say anything.  
  
He poured hot coffee into two mugs and came to sit in front of her. " Please, eat while it's hot." She took the fork and took a first mouthful to her lips. It was delicious and she really was hungry. She hastily took some more. After a moment she raised her face from the plate. Lecter was sipping his coffee, staring at her, a gentle smile on his face. There was not a trace of mockery in this smile. She felt her cheeks grow red.  
  
" Don't worry." he said. "I can make some more if needed. Or maybe I can prepare some toasts for you ? I've got fresh bread and strawberry marmalade, I believe." She knew she should have sent him to hell, but the proposal was too much tempting and she could not resist it. She just nodded. He stood up and started to slice some bread. She finished her eggs without a word.  
  
He brought her the toasts and went back to sit.  
  
" - Thank you, Dr. Lecter.  
- You're welcome, Clarice." She bit in the first slice.  
" - Am I ?" she asked. "What for ? Now that I'm eating my breakfast like a good girl, maybe you can tell me what I'm doing here ?  
- Well, there are a few things I wanted to talk to you about. And I thought you would enjoy a day at the countryside.  
- Things ? What things ?" He chuckled.  
" - You never slow down, do you ?" He stood up. "Take your time to finish your breakfast, Clarice. Then, if you want to ... refresh a bit, you will find everything you need in your room. I'll be waiting for you."  
  
He headed to the door. As he was about to leave the kitchen, he turned back to her: "Oh, I forgot. All the alarms of the house are on, Clarice. And I disconnected the phone myself. I thought you should know." He winked at her and left. Even if the bars were made of gold, it was still a prison.  
  


* * *

  
One hour later she was back at ground floor, fresh and ready. She found him in the sitting room, reading a book in front of the chimney. He raised his head as he heard her enter in the room.  
  
" - You look beautiful, Clarice.  
- Thank you, Dr. Lecter. So, I'm ready. What's the plan ?"  
  
He smiled at her. For reasons she could not have explained, she was starting to like his smile, and the way he was looking at her. She wasn't the least scared. Puzzled yes, but not scared. She had no idea on why he had taken her to his place, or how the whole thing would end, but strangely she was convinced he would not harm her and would let her go in the end. He stood up and took her hand in his. The contact made her jump. He immediately let her hand go. "Don't worry." he whispered "I just want to show you something. Come with me."  
  
They went back to the kitchen. He took a little key from his pocket and unlocked the door that was next to the fridge. To find herself again with Hannibal Lecter in a kitchen and close to a fridge made Clarice feel slightly uneasy. Before he opened the door, he turned to her and said: "From now on we have to remain silent, Clarice. I insist. This is for your own safety, OK ?". She nodded.  
  
She followed him down a spiral staircase. The ceiling was low and he had to bend his head. They arrived to what was a vast cellar. He switched on the light. Along the wall on their left were stored hundreds of bottles of wine. On the right, shelves were covered with food. He could probably remain there for months before he would starve, she thought. The temperature was fine down there. It was probably heated. They crossed the first room and reached a little corridor. It was about ten ft long and was leading to a closed door. He turned to her and put his finger on his lips, to remind her to be silent. Then he opened and passed the door. She followed him.  
  
A ray of daylight was coming down from a small basement window. It was enough for her to see. Two men were sitting against the wall, their ankles and wrists tightly tied with a rope, a blindfold on their eyes. Clarice opened her mouth with surprise but Lecter put his hand on it just in time to stop her from talking. The contact of the prosthetic on her cheek was cold and she turned her head to him, her eyes wide opened. His blue eyes were staring at her with such intensity she felt they were piercing her brain. She nodded to make him know she had understood and he immediately released the pressure.  
  
The two men had heard the noise and they both sat straight. "Hey ! There's someone there ? I can hear you !" the younger man uttered. Apart from being tied up, they seemed to be in good physical conditions. "Is that you, Lecter ? Why don't you answer ?" the man continued.  
  
" - **Doctor** Lecter, if you please, Mr. Dubrowski. Yes, it's me. I just wanted to be sure everything was all right with you, gentlemen.  
- All right ! What the fuck do you care ! Remove that blindfold immediately so that I can see your dirty face !  
- Don't be rude, Mr. Dubrowski. That will lead you nowhere. I'm afraid you're in no position to give me orders. Are you OK, Mr. Sogliato ?  
- Yes, Dr. Lecter. I'm fine.  
- Good. Now I'll leave you alone. I'll come back with your lunch in a few hours. Good day."  
  
Lecter showed the door to Clarice and they both went out. He closed the lock and she followed him upstairs. Once they were back in the kitchen and the door was closed Clarice felt free to speak again. She could not believe what she had just seen.  
  
" - They're alive !" she almost shouted. He just nodded. "Why the hell did you tell me you killed them ?  
- I never said they were dead, Clarice. I only asked what you believed I did. Apparently you came to the conclusion I had killed them, but you arrived there alone.  
- For Christ sake, to what other conclusion could I have arrived ! You're not particularly known for having been merciful in the past.  
- Maybe I'm getting older ..."  
  
She calmed down a bit. She stared at him trying to understand but no emotion could be read on his face.  
  
" - But you could have told me. You could have told me that night in the alley, or on the phone later. Why ?" He grinned.  
- Why didn't I kill them or why didn't I tell you ?  
- Both !"  
  
He seemed to seriously think of it, as if it was the first time he was really asking himself the question.  
  
" - I guess I thought you knew me better, Clarice. Or at least I wanted to find out. It's true I've killed before but ...  
- Never without a good reason. Or what **you** consider as a good reason." she interrupted him. The smile came back on his face.  
" - Yes. I admit our value systems may be a little bit different. Anyway, I have currently no reason to deny these two gentlemen their lives. Though I must confess Mr. Dubrowski, as you may have noticed in your brief encounter, is somewhat lacking of courtesy. I put it on account of his education as the heir of one of the biggest fortunes of the country. I've always considered rich people should feel more responsible for this world. But over the years, I noticed with sadness that this opinion of mine is hardly shared. What do you think, Clarice ?  
- I believe everybody should behave correctly, rich or poor.  
- Yeah. You're probably right. But enough with philosophical considerations. Today is a beautiful day. It's a pity to stay inside. Would you like to have a walk in the garden ?"  
  
From Clarice point of view, things were getting weirder and weirder. She was an FBI agent, in charge of finding and arresting one of the most wanted criminals in America, and she was quietly discussing with him in his ... manor. But the more difficult to admit for her was that, in a way, she was enjoying it. Of course, she would have felt much better if she had had the control of the situation, if she had found him instead of the other way around. But his company was pleasant, almost reassuring. "Clarice Starling, you're nut !" she thought.  
  
And now he was offering a walk in the garden ! After all, why not ! As matter stood, she could very well visit the garden too.  
  
" - I thought you wanted to talk to me, Dr. Lecter.  
- I do. But we can talk while walking.  
- OK."  
  


* * *

  
They went out. As a matter of facts, the so-called garden was more like a park. Although most of the trees had lost their leaves, it was still splendid. They started walking in silence. As Lecter did not seem eager to speak, Clarice started.  
  
" - So, was I getting closer ?" she asked. He raised his right eyebrow as if surprised by the question.  
" - What ?  
- In my investigations. Was I getting warmer ?  
- Not really, I'm sorry. But I appreciated your efforts. Michael Simpson impressed me too, I should say.  
- He's a nice guy. And quite competent.  
- Did you like working with him ?  
- Yes.  
- More than with your FBI colleagues ?  
- Umh ... David is OK. David Scomb ... he's been my partner in the last months.  
- I see. In the new unit you're working in, right ?  
- That's it. Have you been following my career, Dr. Lecter ?  
- As much as I could, yes. But you were right the other night. I had to leave the country for a while."  
  
The winter sun was shining generously, but the air was cold and made her chill. Hannibal stopped and removed his jacket. "Would you permit me ?" he asked, and without waiting for her answer he wrapped her shoulder in the piece of clothes. Clarice felt immediately warmer. "Thank you" she said. He nodded.  
  
She was intrigued. He was generally a little bit more talkative. He had started again walking slightly before her, his hands in his pockets. She caught up with him and passed her arm in the loop formed by his elbow, her hand resting on his forearm. He startled and looked at her.  
  
" - So, I'm still able to surprise you !" she said. And then she laughed. He remained very serious but she saw he was not upset.  
" - You are, and you've always been, Clarice."  
  
  
For sure she had taken him by surprise. The contact of her hand on his arms had almost burnt him. It was the first time she had spontaneously touched him.  
  
" - So, Clarice, You're ... back on the Lecter case, so to speak ?  
- Yes.  
- Did you ask for it or was it a decision from Jack Crawford ? Is old Jackie boy so desperate he had to call on you again ?  
- Well, kind of mix. Crawford wanted me out. But when he found out I had been to Mc Dougall 's place, he understood I wouldn't stay out. So he arranged a temporary assignment for me.  
...  
- How did he find out for Mc Dougall ? Certainly not by agent Finch.  
- Mc Dougall 's lawyer called the FBI."  
  
Hannibal looked at her, surprised. So this is what Crawford had told her. And she had believed him.  
  
" - Isn't it strange that Mc Dougall complained ?  
- Umh. Yes, I suppose. But the guy is not really 'normal', you know.  
- I see. So this is how you came to trace my whereabouts.  
- I've done that before, Dr. Lecter. This is my job, remember ? And I intend to go on with it ... That is, as soon as you let me go, of course.  
- I have no doubt of it, Clarice."  
  
He took her to a wooden bench under one of the ancient oaks. They sat.  
  
" - How did you feel when you read the book, Clarice ?  
- Disgusted mainly. Then angry I suppose.  
- Umh ... I guess it could be called a masterpiece, couldn't it ?   
- I guess yes. If there was a prize for gathering the biggest amount of rubbish in one book, this one would be a serious candidate.  
- That's nicely put." he said. "Have you ever read any of Mr. Mc Dougall previous production ?  
- No. But I must confess I'm not really eager to. Did you ?  
- As a matter of facts, no. I must say I have not been able to find any copy of his previous work.  
- From what I heard on TV, the guy is pretty famous for tabloid stuff.  
- So they say. Isn't it curious that none of it can be found in any of the bookshops I visited ? One could think that with the publicity made around 'Hannibal Lecter - Anatomy of a Monster', they would have taken the occasion to sell his previous books as well. That is something publishing house usually do."  
  
She looked at him with her eyes sparkling. Hannibal almost shivered with pleasure. She had the eyes of a child who knows he's going to put a good joke and enjoys the effects in advance. But what he saw in it was that she was more relaxed than she had ever been in his presence. She did not look in the least nervous ... nor scared. And that simple fact pleased him more than he could have imagined.  
  
"Perhaps they planned to." she started mischievously. "But may I remind you that his publisher is currently locked in your cellar, Dr. Lecter. That probably influenced a bit his company strategy, don't you think ?"  
  
He chuckled and took her hand in his. This time she did not react to the unusual contact of the artificial fingers. The sensation overwhelmed him. However, he knew he could not force her to where he wanted her to go. She would have to come to her own conclusions by herself. It was the only way she could get convinced ... and it was not going to be easy. But he was ready to work for it, and he would wait the time she needed.  
  
" - I am happy you did not loose your sense of humor, Clarice. I appreciate that.  
- Thank you, Dr. Lecter. But I was not entirely joking ... What do you intend to do with them ?  
- What do you think I intend to do, Clarice ?  
- No. I'm not guessing anymore.  
...  
- I have no plan to harm them, Clarice, if it can reassure you. I just need to keep them with me a little bit longer, until I can move further. Then, when I don't need them anymore, I will let them go. I promise."  
  
She was looking at him very seriously now. "Why should I believe you ?" she asked, keeping her eyes locked on his. He let go off her hand but kept staring at her. "Did I ever lie to you, Clarice ?" He was keeping his voice down. As she did not answer, he went on: "Think, Clarice. In our previous encounters, did I ever cheat on you ? Can you think of one occasion in the past where I haven't been honest with you ? Answer me now." She broke the eye contact and looked at her shoes.  
  
" - You did not always tell me the whole truth, Dr. Lecter.  
- That is true. There has been things I could not - or did not want to, I admit - tell you. But when I told you something, wasn't it true."  
  
She took some time to answer, as if she was trying to remember. Her hesitation was hurting his feelings, but he knew that was not something easy for her to admit. Finally she raised her face.  
  
" - Yes it was, Dr. Lecter. Is this the answer you wanted from me ?  
- I am not wanting any particular answer from you, Clarice. All I want is you to think about it. See if you can trust me.  
- Trust you ?" she had raised her voice and was looking at him in disbelief now. He smiled.  
  
" - Yes. Trust **me**. Why not ? What sounds so awkward about it ?  
- Dr. Lecter, no matter how charming you can be when you want to, you **are** one of the most wanted criminals of this country. You **have** killed people, this is not just my imagination.  
- But you admit I never deceived you so far, don't you ?  
- Yes, but ...  
- Could you, honestly, say the same about your friends at the FBI ?"  
  
She was about to answer spontaneously but she suddenly stopped. She had almost shouted her last words but now she was just looking truly puzzled. The 'charming' part certainly had not escaped Hannibal, and that comforted him in going further.  
  
" - What do you mean ?" she asked.  
" - What do I mean ? I thought it was obvious, Clarice. Didn't Jack Crawford use you eleven years ago when he sent you to me ? Has he been frank enough with you to tell you the real reason why he wanted my cooperation ? What about Clint Pearsall ? Do you really believe that when he sent you to Mason Verger he did not know why Mason had asked for you ? Do you think he was not aware that the old fool had planned to use you to bait me ?"  
  
Clarice remained silent. Hannibal paused for a few second to give her time to register his words. Then he started again: "What about the late Mr. Krendler, Clarice ? Did he hesitate one second to trade you to Verger, do you think ? And when he did, Clarice, who was there in the FBI to support you, umh ? Pearsall ? Your colleagues ? Old Jackie boy, maybe ? Did any of them help you, Clarice ?" He saw her cheeks redden a bit. He softened his voice further:  
  
" - Did they, Clarice ?  
- No." she said so low he could hardly hear her.  
" - But you trust them, don't you ? You trusted them then and you trust them now. Tell me, Clarice, what makes you so sure Jack Crawford is not again using you to get to me ?  
- He's not.  
- Why, Clarice ? He manipulated you in the past, why can't he do it again today ?  
- He did not know me back then."  
  
She had said the last sentence very quickly, her voice sounding almost childish.   
  
" - Do you think that would stop him, Clarice ?" Hannibal went on. "It's been almost twenty years that Jack is trying to lock me in. He once made it. Well ... Will Graham did. But I escaped. I am the only failure in his career, Clarice. A perfect career, if it was not for Hannibal the Cannibal Lecter. Do you truly believe he would hesitate to use anything he could to remove this stain ? Even if he likes you, Clarice - and I think he does, in his own way - would he spare you to catch me ?  
- Jack Crawford is not like that, Dr. Lecter. You may be right about Pearsall, and Paul Krendler was really an asshole, but not Crawford. He's not like them.  
- Really ?  
...  
- Do you know anything I don't, Dr. Lecter ?  
...  
- Even if I did, Clarice, would you believe me ? I don't think so. No matter what they have done to you, you still trust them. Not for what they are, but for the institution they belong to. The institution you have dedicated your life to. And no matter how honest I've been with you in the past, you won't trust me, will you, Clarice ? Oh, I don't blame you. Believe me, I understand. They represent what you have always believed in. I am the enemy."  
  
He knew there could not be an answer. But he also knew he had put the doubt in her mind. She would have to do the rest of the way on her own. But he trusted her. She was smart enough and strong enough to do it.  
  
"It's getting late, now. I'd better start preparing lunch, or our guests might complain." He stood up and she followed him. They made their way to the house in silence, each of them lost in his own thoughts.  
  


* * *

  
She saw him reactivate the alarm as soon as they were in. He put the remote control back in the pocket of his trousers. "I must abandon you for about one hour, Clarice. But please consider this house as yours."  
  
She went to the sitting room and sat in an armchair by the window. She was still troubled by what Lecter had told her. Had he been playing with her again ? Was he just dangling her ? Someway, he sounded sincere. She hadn't heard in his tone the subtle irony that there had been when she first met him in the dungeon.  
  
Why had he told her these things ? He and Crawford had never been best friends, but ... The anger started growing in her. What was he thinking ? That she had never put those questions to herself ? That she was too stupid to question the motivations of her colleagues or superiors ? That she was too naive to realize the FBI was not this temple of rectitude she imagined when she was a kid ?  
  
Damn you, Dr. Lecter ! I'm no more the country bumpkin I was in Baltimore. I've grown up. You'd better not forget that.  
  
She sighed. Who did she think she was fooling ? Of course he was right. She was as naive now as she was at the beginning.  
  
She had no idea how long she had been sitting there when he appeared in the doorway.   
  
" - Lunch is ready, Clarice. Are you hungry ?  
- A little, Dr. Lecter." She followed him to the dining room. The table was dressed beautifully. "Are we celebrating something ?  
- A quiet Sunday lunch in good company. Isn't that enough ?"  
  
She smiled and sat on the chair he had drawn for her.  
  
" - What is it ?" she asked looking at her plate.  
" - Nothing you would disapprove of, believe me. It is called Bouchées à la Reine. First time you have some ?  
- To my knowledge, yes.  
- I hope you'll like it."  
  
He wen to sit in front of her. "Bon appétit." They did not talk much during the first course. The food was delicious. And the wine measured up. When they had finished, he took their plates to the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with a long dish. "I thought you would trust me more on fish than on meet." he said. She nodded.  
  
The Truite aux Amandes was served with a fine white Bordeaux. She did not know if the wine was to be considered responsible for that, but Clarice started relaxing a bit.  
  
" - Why is it so important for you, Dr. Lecter ?  
- I beg your pardon ?  
- Mc Dougall' s book. It is not the first time someone write this kind of stuff about you. As you once wrote to me, it never bothered you before. Why is it different this time ?"  
  
He delicately wiped his mouth and put his napkin on the table.  
  
" - What makes you think it is important to me ?  
- Well ... You kidnapped two men ... And you did not kill them. From what you told me, you have no intention to do so. That makes me think you have something else in mind, that you're preparing something.  
- Sounds logical.  
- So, what is it ? Will you tell me, Doctor ?" As he did not answer, she went on: "You said you wanted to be honest with me. Now, **you** brought me here to talk to me. I think I deserve it."  
  
His blue eyes narrowed and concentrated on her, as if she was reading her mind. Clarice did not loose composure and stared on at him. Finally he started speaking.  
  
" - It is more ... personal this time, Clarice.  
- In what sense ?  
- The things that were written. The ... topics that were tackled, so to speak. Lost in that incredible amount of rubbish, as you called it, there were things more personal.  
- Mc Dougall is convinced you did not run after him because you respect him, because he is the first person who has understood you."  
  
Hannibal chuckled.  
  
" - Is this what he told you ?  
- Yes. And he seemed very serious about it. Is this what you mean by 'more personal', Doctor ?  
- No. I assure you it is not what I meant.  
- Then what is it ? From what I remember, Mc Dougall mentioned the crimes you've been judged for - and found guilty for - and the crimes you and I know you have actually committed. The rest, apart from the chapter dedicated to me, is nothing else but a cheap psychoanalysis of your motivations. Even a child would understand the guy does not know what he's talking about. And don't tell me you care about the part of the population who believed in what he wrote.  
- I don't."  
  
Clarice noticed his face had run paler. She was troubled. As far as she could remember, she had never seen Hannibal Lecter uncomfortable with anything before. Her curiosity got all the more aroused.  
  
" - What was it, Dr. Lecter ?" He sighed.  
" - This book has been specifically written to piss me off, Clarice." It was the first time she heard him use such a coarse language but she did not interrupt him. "Some ... elements were introduced in this purpose. Things very few people could know about.  
- Like what ?"  
  
He stood up and went to the window, turning his back to her. It took some time before he spoke again, but Clarice felt she should not intervene.  
  
" - Like Mischa." he finally said. The name was vaguely familiar to Clarice, but for an instant she could not make the connection. "My sister." His voice was cold. Clarice remembered something she had read in his FBI file, then what she had read in Mc Dougall' s book. "They wrote I killed her and ... ate her after.  
- Doctor Lecter, this is the kind of stuff these people feed on and ...  
- NO."  
  
He had shouted. Clarice froze. He was still looking through the window. When he started again, his voice was low but the tension was obvious.  
  
" - She was only four years old. She had never done a mean thing in her life. How could ...  
- ...  
- I did not do that, Clarice.  
- ... I don't believe you did. And I don't think people believed ...  
- I don't care what people believe, Clarice."  
  
He had turned to her. What she read in his eyes was not anger but rage. Cold and determined rage. For the first time since she knew him, Clarice understood the fear most people felt about Hannibal Lecter. She knew his rage was not aimed at her, but she could not help being scared.  
  
" - Don't you understand ? There are limits to what they can use, and they're gonna learn it.  
- They ?"  
  
He grinned at her.  
  
" - **They**, Clarice. I thought you could understand. But I made a mistake. Nobody can.  
- Dr. Lecter, ...  
- It's better if we leave it here. This little comedy has lasted long enough.  
- Dr. Lecter, if I said something that ...  
- No you didn't. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. Take your things in your bedroom. I will drive you home."  
  
His voice had gone down. The fury had left him as brusquely as it had come. But his face was inscrutable. Clarice understood it was no use discussing. She went up and packed her bag. While going down the stairs, she couldn't help feeling uneasy, as if she had missed something but was unable to understand what.  
  


* * *

  
Once they were in his car, he handed her a black blindfold. "It's not comfortable but has less unpleasant effects than the chloroform." he said. She took it and settled it on her eyes. These were the last words she heard from him until the Jaguar stopped in front of her apartment. She felt his hands in her hair, untying the blindfold.  
  
He looked tired but his face was relaxed now. He unlocked the door.  
  
" - Here you are, Clarice. Home.  
- Thank you.  
- I suggest you take some rest now. You're likely to be busy in the next days. I mean ... looking for me.  
- Yes. Dr. Lecter ...  
- I know, Clarice. Go now."  
  
She had opened the door and was about to get out when he called her back.  
  
" - Clarice !  
- Yes ?  
- I'm sorry about what happened at lunch ... I did not want to scare you.  
- I understand.  
- Good bye, Clarice.  
- Good bye Dr. Lecter."  
  
She stepped out and did not turn back. She heard the car leave. She climbed up the stairs and opened her door. She dropped her bag in the hall and went to the sitting room. She let herself fall in the sofa and started to cry freely.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. If you want to leave a review, feel free. If you don't, feel free the same._  
_Absolut._  
  



	7. Chapter 07

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I don't see how I could make any money of it anyway. I'm just borrowing them for a ride. I'll turn them back. I promise ... Or maybe not ... Some phrases have borrowed too, but take it as a tribute to the author.  
  
  
**Chapter 7**  
  
Mike Simpson was talking to her while driving. Clarice heard his voice but wasn't paying any attention to the words he was saying. She was lost in her thoughts and in the strange feeling of discomfort she had been experiencing ever since she woke up that morning. She knew something was wrong, but she could simply not make it out.  
  
She had not talked to anybody about her last encounter with Dr. Lecter. Neither to Crawford nor to Simpson. And she knew she wouldn't. It was a decision she had taken in the middle of the night. She had tried to justify it by the fact that she had not learnt much that could be useful to the FBI. She could have recognized the house, yes, but was unable to lead them to it. Lecter had probably moved already anyway. He would not run the risk to let her find him. And he had not released any clear information about what his next moves would be.  
  
At some moments, she even managed to believe it. But deep inside, she knew these were not the real reasons why she would never talk. It was too ... personal. Her relationship with Hannibal Lecter had passed the mere hunter-prey relationship. It had become too intimate. But what scared her the more in all this was that, in her rare moments of lucidity, she was no more sure that she really wanted to catch him. And that was a first !  
  
She did not know how or if she could handle it. For the first time, she had started to see the man behind the monster. And though she would never admit it loudly, she knew she had appreciated what she had seen. Ever since he had left her in front of her building, she had not stopped thinking of him. Even when she finally fell asleep, he joined her in her dreams.  
  
" - Which one should we start with ?" Simpson had raised his voice. She looked at him, puzzled.  
" - Sorry, Mike ?  
- You have not listened to a single word I've said, have you ?  
- I'm sorry. I was just thinking of something else. What is it you want to know ?  
- ... Are you all right ? You look ... preoccupied.  
- No, I'm OK. I was just ... Nothing regarding the case anyway."  
  
Simpson nodded at her.  
  
" - No problem." he said. " I was just saying we have two places to visit this morning: one on Calvin street and another one on Parker. Which one do you want to start with ?  
- As you want. Calvin is closer.  
- Yes. Let's start with Calvin."  
  
After a few seconds, as if she was feeling guilty not to be loyal to Simpson, Clarice added:  
  
" - I don't think he would select a place downtown anyway.  
- Yeah. We're probably loosing our time. But we haven't got anything else, have we ?"  
  
He had looked at her with his last sentence. It was a genuine question. She shook her head negatively.  
  


* * *

  
Hannibal was arriving home. He had made a last marking off of the place. He was as ready as a man could be. This night he would act.  
  
When he entered the dining room, he smelt her scent. But he could not be sure whether it was still here or if it was just his imagination. He had been thinking of her whole day; to the point it sometimes spoiled his concentration. He was not used to it. He was a man of control. But nobody had ever troubled him the way she did. Was this what they called Love ?  
  
He smiled. He liked this feeling. But had no time to give away to it right now. He had to prepare.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice dropped in her sofa. The day had been useless. But she knew it would be. They had gone on searching for Lecter, but in the wrong places. She knew they were not even close. The other teams had not done any better.  
  
She took her glass on the coffee table and took a sip of vodka. She grinned when the cold liquid burnt her throat. Her eyes caught the copy of Mc Dougall book she had left on the table. She took it and started leafing through it. She sighed.  
  
She was more confused than tired. The feeling she was missing something had grown in the back of her head during the day. She knew the only person who could help her clearing her mind was out of reach. And anyway he would not make it easy for her. "What is it, Dr. Lecter ?" she uttered to the emptiness of her apartment. "What is it you have seen and I don't ?".  
  
He had spoken of his sister. She went to the chapter in which Mc Dougall was writing about her death and started reading it loud. It was pure trash, merely assumptions, full of sordid details, even badly written. Though it made her want to puke, she forced herself to read through the whole chapter.  
  
The story was somehow familiar to her. Where was it she first heard about Lecter' s sister ? She thought for a while, trying to concentrate.  
  
"The FBI file. Lecter case file." This is where she first saw the name of Mischa mentioned. She tried to recollect her memories, tried to find out if she had ever read it mentioned in a paper or heard it in a TV report. She did not believe she had. Of course, she could have missed a few articles or broadcasts, but ... such a story, if it had come out, would not have passed unnoticed.  
  
How did he know ? How did Mc Dougall know ? She re-opened the book and went to the chapter about her. She read it through. The first part was about the Jame Gumb case. Nothing that had not been mentioned tens of times in the press. The end of the chapter though was more interesting. Particularly the details about that night in Chesapeake. The Bureau had been pretty embarrassed with the end of Paul Krendler, and they did not release much information to the journalists that arrived on the scene. Obviously, minor details had escaped in the days that followed but ... from what she could remember, nothing about what happened between Lecter and her in the kitchen. She would not have forgotten **that**.  
  
Mc Dougall had written that Hannibal Lecter was unable to seduce a woman, and that he had to 'use the force to satisfy his appetites', like when he had had to 'stuck Clarice Starling' s hair in a fridge to steal a kiss from her'. According to Mc Dougall, that was not necessary as she was more than willing to kiss him. Clarice felt her cheeks grow red.  
  
How could she have missed this the first time she had read it ? She was probably too tired or too disgusted.  
  
There were only two witnesses to that scene: Hannibal Lecter and her. No way Lecter could have talked to anybody about it. The only person she had talked to was the special agent who had interrogated her after that night. Of course, he had written a report, but that was internal and confidential information. Either Mc Dougall had very special acquaintances inside the FBI, or ...  
  
Clarice closed her eyes. No. That was impossible ... or he was from the FBI, she mentally finished her sentence. She stayed like that for a few minutes, staring into space, realizing the consequences of what she had just thought.  
  
Only Jack Crawford could have set up such an operation. Lecter was **his** case. Images of her meeting with Krantz and Crawford just a few days before came back to her mind. Then she remembered the night when she called him at home and the conversation they had the day after in his office. He had ordered her not to get involved. But in the same time, he had released to her so much information he could not possibly believe she would stay out. He deliberately fed her curiosity.  
  
He had played with her. He had manipulated her. He had **used** her.  
  
She was holding the book with such anger that her knuckles had turned white. She threw it on the wall with such force that the cover was dislocated. "Bastard !" she shouted.  
  
Crawford had seen his plan turn bad. Lecter had assaulted Dubrowski and Sogliato, but not Mc Dougall, who was most probably the bait to the final trap. Now he was in deep troubles because two civilians had been kidnapped. And of course, Clarice Starling was the surest way to make Lecter come out.  
  
So he had used her ... Once more ... As he had used her in Baltimore ... As Mason Verger had used her, with the consent and the help of the FBI. Hannibal Lecter was right.  
  
She stood up, grabbed her bag and went out.  
  


* * *

  
Hannibal had been waiting for Jack Crawford for about one hour when he finally saw him arrive at his home. It was 9:45 pm and the neighborhood was quiet. It was cold and he wished he had brought his coat.  
  
For having already spent a few nights spying on old Jackie, he was knowing pretty well his habits. He would now go to the bathroom and take a shower - fifteen minutes. Then he would go down to the kitchen and cook his dinner. Hannibal had searched Crawford' s garbage a few times and had a fair idea of the menu: frozen stuff, canned stuff, maybe a soup. Seemed Crawford' s cooking abilities were rather limited.  
  
Then he would swallow his dinner in the kitchen. Generally, it did not take him more than ten minutes. He would prepare himself a cup of tea and take it to the sitting room, where he would read for about one hour. He would be in bed before midnight. Hannibal would wait for one more hour and then would enter.  
  
Hannibal sat on a rock, behind some thick bushes. From where he was, he had a good view on the house, but Crawford could not notice him in the dark. He let his thoughts go free for a while.  
  
A little bit more than half an hour later, his attention was drawn by the sound of a car parking in front of Crawford' s house. He stood up to see better. He was rather surprised when he recognized the Mustang. Clarice stepped out from the car and went to ring at the door. Crawford opened almost at once.  
  
Hannibal saw them talk in the doorway. Then Crawford let her in. They went to the kitchen. Though he could not hear what they were saying, Hannibal saw that the conversation was pretty animated. Clarice was making big gestures and looked angry at her ex-boss. Hannibal smiled at the night. This was becoming really interested. His girl had brains ... and guts. She apparently had made her way to the right conclusions. He might still hope for the best, after all.  
  


* * *

  
The door opened. Crawford looked truly surprised when he saw Clarice on his door steps.  
  
" - Starling ? What are you doing here ?  
- I've got to talk to you, Mr. Crawford.  
- And this could not wait till tomorrow morning in the office ?  
- It could. But I believe it is better for both of us if we have this little conversation outside the FBI premises."  
  
He looked at her intensely and let her in.  
  
" - We'll have to talk in the kitchen, if you don't mind. I was cooking. Did you have dinner already, Starling ?  
- I'm not hungry."  
  
Clarice' s tone was as cold as Crawford' s one was friendly. He stopped the gas under the soup pan and turned back to her. He showed her a chair by the kitchen table.  
  
" - Please, take a seat.  
- I don't need one.  
- What is it, Clarice ? You seem ... troubled.  
- Don't call me that. Only my friends can call me that.  
- I see. And I'm no more your friend ..."  
  
Clarice was staring at him. He was smiling. Her eyes were full of rage.  
  
" - You lied to me. You manipulated me and you lied to me. Once more.  
- Starling, if you calm down a minute, I may underst...  
- No, Mr. Crawford. I don't want to calm down. And you perfectly know what I'm talking about. Mc Dougall, or whatever his name is, is one of your agents, isn't he ?"  
  
Crawford bit his lips. When he finally answered, his voice was calm and low.  
  
" - Yes, he is.  
- And you set up all this to trap Lecter.  
- Hannibal Lecter is a criminal, Starling. And we're from the FBI, remember ? Catching Lecter is part of the job.  
- And you consider using me any time you need it as part of your job ?  
- I consider doing whatever is needed to capture serial killers as part of my job, Starling. As long as it does not endanger lives, of course. We both know Lecter will never hurt you.  
- What about Dubrowski ? What about Sogliato ? They could be sacrificed ? It was worth it ?  
- They were not part of the plan. But if you absolutely need to find a culprit for their death, why don't you ask Lecter ?  
...  
- And it never occurred to you that you could have told me ?"  
  
Crawford did not answer. He bent his head and looked at his shoes. When Clarice started again, her voice was still cold as ice, but calm and determined.  
  
" - Can you give me one example of a situation where I betrayed my oath to the FBI ? When did I fail you, Mr. Crawford ? What made you think I wouldn't have cooperated if you had told me the truth ?  
- You're a good agent, Starling. One of the best. But your relationship with Hannibal Lecter is too personal and ...  
- And you figured out you could not trust me. Just for your information, Mr. Crawford, you should not believe everything they write in the tabloids. I never slept with Hannibal Lecter.  
...  
- I made a mistake, Starling. But I did not mean to hurt you. And the cause was just.  
...  
- I want to be released from my assignment, sir." Crawford raised an eyebrow and looked at her in disbelief.  
" - What do you mean, Starling ?  
- I think it is clear. I don't want to work on the Lecter case anymore. I'm no more part of the Behavioral Science Unit. I believe this temporary assignment was an error. If you want to take disciplinary measures for my disobeying your orders, I'll understand."  
  
Crawford sat on the chair he had offered to Clarice.  
  
" - Clarice, we need to get him. And we're close. I can feel it. We can do it without you, but our chances are definitely better if you stay at our side.  
- As a bait ? Thank you, sir, but that's not why I enrolled.  
...  
- I understand. You won't have any problem, not from me. Report to Krantz tomorrow morning. I'll call him and tell him I have changed my mind, that I think working on this case is not safe for you ... Krantz knows nothing about all this.  
- And inspector Simpson ?"  
  
Crawford shook his head negatively. Clarice left without adding a single word.  
  


* * *

  
When Clarice finally left Crawford' s house, the moonlight reflected on her face and Hannibal saw her expression. "Clarice, you're beautiful when you're angry. Do you know that ?" he murmured.  
  
She was getting to her car. He had to make a decision quickly: Crawford or Clarice ? He had come for Jack, but Jack could wait for another day, and the temptation was too big.  
  
He discreetly reached his car and when Starling left, he followed her at a distance.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. If you want to leave a review, feel free. If you don't, feel free the same._  
_Absolut._  
  



	8. Chapter 08

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I don't see how I could make any money of it anyway. I'm just borrowing them for a ride. I'll turn them back. I promise ... Or maybe not ... Some phrases have borrowed too, but take it as a tribute to the author.  
  
Notes: Fast update ... Short chapter. Hope you enjoy it.  
  
**Chapter 8**  
  
Clarice stopped her car right in front of her building. Hannibal parked on the other side of the street and waited five minutes after she entered the building. Then he took his cell phone and dialed the now familiar number. He let it ring ten times but got no answer. He tried again after a couple of minutes. This time, after eight ringing he finally heard a click. And then a poor "Clarice Starling" at the other end of the line. Her voice was weak. He heard her sniff.  
  
" - Good evening, Clarice.  
- Dr. Lecter ? Is that you ?  
- Of course it's me, Clarice. Were you expecting another call ?  
- No. No, but I did not expect yours either. Not after ..."  
  
Her voice was firmer now. But Hannibal realized the moment was not particularly proper. He should have waited, give her some time to recompose.  
  
" - I did not want to bother you, Clarice. I just wanted to be sure you were all right. But I can understand you're not really eager to talk to me after my attitude on Sunday. I will let you sleep now. Good night, Clarice.  
- No !" she shouted. "Dr. Lecter, please don't hang up. I've got to talk to you.  
- Talk to me ? What is it, Clarice ?  
- Mc Dougall, and his book. It's not what it seems, Dr. Lecter. I know you don't have to believe me but ..."  
  
She had spoken very fast but suddenly paused, as if not sure if she should go on.  
  
" - But what, Clarice ?" He didn't get any answer. "Clarice, are you still there ?  
- Yes ... I'm here. It's just that ... I shouldn't be talking with you, Dr. Lecter. This is classified information and ...  
- Don't talk to me if you feel you should not trust me, Clarice.  
- It's not that. I am still an FBI agent and you are ...  
- Hannibal 'The Cannibal' Lecter. I know who I am, Clarice. And who you are. We both know."  
  
There were a few seconds of silence. Then Clarice started again.  
  
" - The whole story of the book, Dr. Lecter ... I know it's difficult to believe but ..." Hannibal understood how painful it could be for her to release information to him, and decided to help her.  
" - I know, Clarice. Mr. Mc Dougall, or whatever his real name is, is in fact an FBI agent. His cover identity, as well as the book he is supposed to have written, were built by Crawford' s team to trap me.  
- You knew it from the start, didn't you, Dr. Lecter ? But how did y...  
- Jack Crawford is not stupid, Clarice. But his main fault, and the reason why he will never catch me, is that he is convinced to be smarter than I am."  
  
Again the silence, until he heard her sigh. "Clarice, are you all right ?" Nothing.   
  
" - Clarice, please answer me.  
- I'll be OK, Dr. Lecter." She was crying.  
" - You don't sound OK to me, Clarice."  
  
Hannibal stepped out of his car and headed to the front door of her building. Clarice was now crying louder on the phone, unable to speak a word. She was breaking down, and had no one to support her, he knew this. "Now listen to me, Clarice." he said with his softest voice. "I want you to calm down and go to open the door of your apartment." He was now climbing the stairs. "Clarice, did you hear me ? Come on and open your door now." He waited for a few seconds more, then hardened his voice. "Open the door, Clarice. Now."  
  
He heard the click of the lock but the door stayed closed. He pushed it wide open and finally saw her. Her face was devastated and she was trembling. She still held her phone against her ears. She stepped back when he entered. He closed the door behind him.  
  
" - It's gonna be all right now, Clarice." he said as gently as possible. "I'm not gonna hurt you.  
- I ... I know" she answered sobbing.  
  
He slowly got closer to her and stretched out his hand to her. "Don't worry" he tried to calm her. Unexpectedly, she suddenly rushed to him and put her arms around him. She was crying freely now and he felt her body shaking against his.  
  
For sure he had not expected this. After a second of hesitation, he put his arms around her shoulder and pressed her on his chest. He started stroking her hair with his hand and whispering soothing words to her ears. They stayed like that for more than ten minutes, until Clarice seemed to calm down a bit. She was still crying but her breathing was more regular.  
  
" - All you said ... on Sunday ... was true ... Dr. Lecter." she said, sobbing. "He used ... me.  
- I'm sorry, Clarice. Truly."   
  
He rubbed her back slowly. After a while, Clarice' s tears dried up, but she kept her arms around his waist.  
  
" - Why, Dr. Lecter ?  
- Why what ?  
...  
- Why are you the only person I can always rely on to tell me the truth ?  
- Because I love you, Clarice."  
  
His answer had come spontaneously. She raised her face to him. Her eyes and her nose were red with tears and her mascara had run. But yet to him, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She looked at him, her eyes widened by the surprise. But then she buried her face again in his shirt and he felt she was about to burst into tears again.  
  
"I know," he said smiling, his chin resting on the top of her head "This is horrible. I've tried to quit, I promise. But I can't help it." She chuckled.  
  
" - I see. Just a bad habit ... like smoking.  
- That's it. An ... addiction."  
  
They both laughed. Then Clarice did the one thing Hannibal would never have dreamt her to do. She gently kissed his breast. It was nothing else than a friendly kiss, he knew it. But the heat of her lips went through his shirt and set his heart on fire. He put his finger below her chin and delicately raised it, until their eyes locked.  
  
She was looking at him, calm and serene. No fear clouded her eyes. She slightly opened her mouth. Without breaking their look, he bent his head and came closer to her. His lips brushed hers softly. He did not want to force her this time. He would not go further unless she responded to him.  
  
She let him do without answering. But as he was about to withdraw she gently bit his upper lips to hold him back. He shivered with pleasure and surprise. He put his hands behind her head and pulled her closer to him. He kissed her slowly. She let him in. Only when they had explored fully each other's mouth did they part, out of breath.  
  
She raised her hand to his face and caressed his cheek. Hannibal was trembling with desire. He lifted her in his arms and took her to her bedroom. He laid her on the bed and kissed her again. She drew him closer and started undoing his shirt. The contact of her finger on his bare chest was almost unbearable.  
  
They made love several times that night. The first time with unbelievable passion, and then with more and more tenderness. Until they finally felt asleep in each other' s arms, as dawn was breaking.  
  


* * *

  
The sun was already high when Clarice opened her eyes. She smiled as memories of the night came back to her, but her smile froze when she realized she was alone in bed. Instead, on the sheets where Hannibal had loved her, was a red rose, and a note. She took the piece of paper and read it.  
  
"_Clarice,  
  
I am watching you sleeping, and you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my whole life. And the dearest to my heart.  
  
These last hours have been the most extraordinary of my life. But I know things will not be easy for you, and I do not want to make it worse. So, I will let you make your own choices, without interfering. You, better then anybody else in this world, know who I am. And I hope you now know how much I love you.  
  
You will find on the other side of this letter a phone number. When you're ready, **if** you're ready, use it to contact me. I am certain you realize that doing so, I put my life in your hands. But I trust you, Clarice, even with my life.  
  
Take all the time you need. I'll be waiting for you.  
  
And whatever your decision will be, Clarice, I will always be there for you.  
  
  
Love,  
Hannibal. _"  
  
  
Clarice turned the note and stared at the numbers delicately drawn in his condensed handwriting. After a moment of frustration, love overwhelmed her. He had given her the ultimate gift of love, her freedom. She would not spoil it. She would take her time to make out her own feelings. She knew he would be there, when time comes.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. If you want to leave a review, feel free. If you don't, feel free the same._  
_Absolut._  
  



	9. Chapter 09

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Mason Verger and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I don't see how I could make any money of it anyway. I'm just borrowing them for a ride. I'll turn them back. I promise ... Or maybe not ... Some phrases have borrowed too, but take it as a tribute to the author.  
  
Notes: OK. You're almost there.  
  
**Chapter 9**  
  
Leaving Clarice had been one of the most difficult decision Hannibal had ever taken. But he knew it was the only thing to do. He had never felt what he felt for Clarice for anybody else ... since Mischa. She was the only person on this earth that could complete him, and bring him peace. But he would rather renounce to her than ask her to follow him knowing she could regret it one day. It had to be her decision and there would be no going back. He knew she was smart enough to understand that.  
  
He had watched her sleep for a long moment. The vision of her body peacefully asleep was now stored in his memory palace for ever.  
  
After departing from Clarice' s apartment, he had passed in front of Crawford' s house but it was too late: lights were already on in what he had identified as the bathroom. Old Jackie would have a one day reprieve. Hannibal had no plan to kill him. Jack Crawford had been an adversary for too long, and a valuable one as well. But he would ensure the FBI guru would never be able to manipulate anybody again.   
  
After all, he had well deserved his retirement. And a peaceful retirement as well, as he would have to renounce to both his eyes and his tongue. This tongue who had served so many lies to his Clarice, he would accommodate with a raisin sauce, following an old recipe of his. Of course, the eyes would go after, so that Jack could assist to the dinner.  
  
Hannibal checked his equipment for the last time. He could definitely not rely on Crawford' s cooking material. It included medical instrumentation too and some anesthetic: despite all they could have written about him, Dr. Hannibal Lecter was not a savage.  
  
Then he climbed up to his bedroom to have a little rest.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice had arrived late in office. She went directly to Krantz office and explained him the situation. Crawford had already called her boss and it seemed he had told him exactly what he had said he would. But Clarice could never be sure: she found it difficult trusting Crawford again, after what she had lately discovered.   
  
Clarice went down to her desk and met David, who started updating her on the last evolution of his investigations. They had made progress and had even arrested two more traffickers, whom they went to interrogate together. Clarice appreciated the fact that Dave did not ask her anything. He was treating her exactly as if she had never left the case. Working with him helped her setting apart the last events and relax a bit. She concentrated her mind on the job and left all the rest for later.  
  
The afternoon went smooth. The end of her involvement in the Lecter case had removed a load from her conscience. Even if deep down inside she knew it was not resolving anything, she felt less guilty vs. the FBI for not releasing information ... and less guilty vs. Hannibal too.  
  
She left the office early and went jogging for almost two hours. When she came back home, her whole body was aching but her mind was truly in peace. She took a hot shower and changed in comfortable woolen pajamas. Then she went to the kitchen and opened the fridge to see if she could afford a good dinner. She grinned: wouldn't be a gourmet meal tonight. For one instant, she was tempted by taking the phone and order a pizza, but then she changed her mind. She grabbed the few vegetables she had left and started preparing a salad. "Hannibal, you would be proud of me !" she thought. She froze. It had been a spontaneous thought. Was it possible that he was already so deep in her that she could not do the simplest things without thinking of what his reaction would be ? She sighed.  
  
After dinner, she sat on her couch and switched on the TV. She zapped on a dozen channels but soon realized she was unable to concentrate on anything. She stopped on a musical channel, made herself more comfortable and closed her eyes.  
  
Images of the previous night immediately invaded her mind. She could almost feel his skin and smell his scent. He had been so passionate and yet so tender with her, so attentive to **her **pleasure. No man had ever made love to her like that before. But she knew there was more to it. She knew it was not only the physical attraction. Hannibal Lecter was the first man she felt really herself with. She did not have to cheat or to pretend to be someone else. He understood her, sometimes better than herself. And he loved her, for what she was, not for what he wanted her to be.  
  
But was she able to give this love back ?  
  
She missed him. From that she was sure. At his very moment she wanted nothing more than to be with him, to talk to him, to listen to him, to feel the heat of his hands on her body. But could she love him for what he was ? Or could she love him **in spite of** what he was ? She was aware this was the most important love of her life and she did not want to cheat on it. She would decide to go for it only if she could be sure she was able to accept him fully and love him totally. The man and the cannibal. The beauty and the beast ...  
  
She found herself back in Jack Crawford' s office the day he entrusted her with the mission of interviewing the famous psychopath. "Believe me, you don't want Hannibal Lecter inside your head." And if she did ? She let him in. Of course, she did it to save Catherine Martin, but was it the only reason ?  
  
Then she saw officer Pembry when she met him in the Shelby County Courthouse in Memphis. He had been nice to her. She could not help the nausea when she thought of what was left of his face after Lecter had 'used' it. Pembry had not committed any crime. He was just doing his job. And even Mason Verger ... Verger was everything but a saint and deserved a punishment, but was Hannibal Lecter justice ? He had punished Verger, in the most cruel way, as he had punished Miggs. Sentenced to death for discourtesy ...  
  
She never knew what Miggs was in for. He probably wasn't an innocent lamb either. But what about the two ambulance men and the man he killed in his escape ?  
  
Hannibal Lecter had never hesitated eliminating anything he thought was an obstacle to his freedom. Not until that night in Chesapeake ... She was the obstacle then. He could have cut **her** hand or even killed her as easily as one kills a fly. But he didn't. He chopped off his own fingers rather than harm her. She saw the unimaginable pain on his face, and yet the intensity of his gaze when he stared at her just before going. There was no hate in his eyes. No anger either.  
  
He was like these rabbits who nibble their own paw to get free from a trap. She knew he would always be on the run. She knew he would do it again. She knew it was a no return trip. Nobody could deny Hannibal Lecter his freedom with impunity. And he would never forgive anybody trying. Jack Crawford should have known that.  
  
Jack ... Jack was in the way ... Clarice sat up. Crawford had tried to trap Lecter, and not in a fair way. Clarice remembered Hannibal' s eyes that Sunday when he had talked about his sister. He had scared her. It was not something he was likely to forgive easily. What did Hannibal said about Dubrowski and Sogliato ... "Think of them as messengers, messengers to the person responsible for all this" ... Crawford ! Shit !  
  
Clarice stood up and ran to her bedroom to change. In less than five minutes she was in her car. She started the engine of the old Mustang and drove to Crawford' s house as fast as she could.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice almost crashed into Crawford' s car. She jumped out of her car and ran to the door. Without thinking, she burst in the door and rushed in. She froze. They were in the dining room. Hannibal was turning his back to her. He had not turned back when she had entered, as if he had not heard her ... Or as if he was expecting her.  
  
Jack Crawford was tied up on a chair on the other side of the table. He looked at her in disbelief, but recollected his senses rapidly. "Starling ! Your gun !". Clarice looked at Lecter. He hadn't said a word so far. He seemed busy preparing something on the table. He finally turned to her. His blue eyes locked to hers but he remained silent. He did not need to talk. There was so much in his look that any word would have sounded superfluous.  
  
On his chair, Crawford was getting agitated. He was talking to her but she didn't get the words. In this very instant, Clarice got the answers to all her questions, to all her doubts. She loved him. Both the man and the animal. She could not approve of what he had done, but it did not change anything to the fact she loved him. She wanted him, and she was ready to give up on everything she ever believed in, if it was to be with him.  
  
" - You don't have to be here, Clarice." Hannibal finally said. His voice was calm.  
" - I'm here because I want to." She saw the sparkle in his eyes.  
" - Good." he simply said. And then he turned back to what he was doing.  
  
" - Starling ! What the hell are y..." Crawford' s face was red with rage.  
" - With all due respect, Mr. Crawford, shut up. Hannibal, don't do it.  
- Why, Clarice ?  
- His death will not bring you anything but a hundred FBI agents on your tracks.  
- Don't worry, old Jackie here will not die tonight. I have other plans for him."  
  
Clarice got closer to the table.  
  
" - Starling, what are you doing ? For Christ sake, wake up ! This is Hannibal Lecter, and you're an FBI agent !  
- Not any more, Mr. Crawford. What are you going to do to him, Hannibal ?  
- You're not gonna believe him ! Starling, he's already killed two men in this story. Do you think he would hesitate killing me and you ?  
- He did not kill them."  
  
Clarice was still staring at Hannibal. She stepped further towards him. She now was seeing the instruments on the table and started to have a better idea of what he had in mind.  
  
" - Starling, he killed Dubrowski and Sogliato. Remember ! Whatever he told you ...  
- He did not kill them. They are alive. I've seen them.  
- You what ?  
- I saw them."  
  
Her last word seemed to stun Crawford for a while. She put her hand on Hannibal' s arm. His skin was cold and she saw a drop of sweat rolling from his forehead. But his eyes were as determined as they could be and his gestures were precise.  
  
" - He's not worth it, Hannibal.  
- There are things he should not have done, Clarice. Besides, he will never let us in peace.  
- He will. Won't you, Mr. Crawford ?"  
  
Crawford was speechless. He could not believe what he was seeing. But he understood this might be his only chance. He nodded.  
  
" - And you believe him ?" Hannibal asked, amused. "After all the lies he gave you, you believe him, don't you ?  
- Yes. I believe him. Because he knows this is his last chance. He understands that if he tries anything against us, it will be the end. Don't you, Jack ?"  
  
Crawford nodded again. "I won't try anything." he whispered. Hannibal did not answer, but he went on manipulating the syringe of anesthetic. She put her hand on his left hand and hold it strongly. She felt the plastic of the prosthetic. She looked at him in the eyes.  
  
"Hannibal, stop. If you love me, stop."  
  
She felt him chill. Instinctively, she knew what he had in mind and she did not give him time to ask his question: "Yes. I will follow you anyway, whether you decide to go on with what you came here for, or you decide to spare him. I will follow you, because I love you."  
  
Hannibal put the syringe on the table. He took a pen and a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket and started writing something.   
  
" - Jackie boy, you are a lucky man." he said. "Here is where you will find your two friends." He raised his face to Crawford. "I think you owe them an apology ... I suggest you respect the promise you just made to the lady, Jack.  
- I will.  
- Good. And don't you ever dare harassing Clarice again, or I swear I will find you."  
  
Crawford nodded.  
  
Hannibal took Clarice' s hand and they disappeared in the night.  
  
  
**Epilogue**  
  
The sun was bright and hot in the sicilian sky. They were having breakfast on the terrace of their room at the Baia Verde. The ionian see was of deep blue and the waves were bursting on the black volcanic rocks.  
  
Clarice had never been in a more beautiful place. Hannibal was sitting in an armchair, reading the american newspaper the waiter had brought them. She went behind him and put her arms around his neck. She started to read the headlines over his shoulders. The whole page was celebrating special agent Jack Crawford who, thanks to his courage and his tenacity had rescued Jonathan Dubrowski and Frank Sogliato from the claws of Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter. The dangerous psychopath had managed to escape, but his hostages were safe.  
  
The article was retracing Crawford' s brilliant career in the FBI, career that would soon end as he would retire in less than two months.  
  
Clarice' s name was not mentioned.  
  
Hannibal put his arm around Clarice' s waist and pulled her onto his knees. She chuckled. He brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen on her eyes.  
  
" - So, Mrs. Edwards, what do you want to do today ?  
- Umh ... I don't know, Mr. Edwards. What would you suggest ?"  
  
He smiled and gently kissed her in the neck. "Well, I thought we could visit the bedroom. They say the view is fantastic from the bed ...". She smiled and curled up in his lap. "Whatever you say, Mr. Edwards."  
  
  


**- The End -**  


  
  


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_That's it. Thanks for reading and all my ratitude to those whot took (or will take) the time to leave a review._  
_Absolut._  
  



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